


Haunted

by penitent_misericorde



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Language, Maiming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:37:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6445069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penitent_misericorde/pseuds/penitent_misericorde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You did this to me.” </p><p>“It would be so much easier for you, wouldn’t it?” His voice is vaguely sad. “No, Miss Fall. <i>You</i> did this to you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. kindling

**Author's Note:**

> Bet you never expected to see me posting again after years of hiatus.
> 
> I'll finish exposure one of these days, but this silly idea grabbed me and won't let go, so...exorcism time!

_Cinder Fall_

 

Pain.  
  
It stinks - smoke, ash, burning metal. They stare at each other across a dozen paces of wreckage-strewn tower floor. She balls her hands into fists and fights for breath. Her body is her worst enemy at this point - muscles faltering, legs and arms shaking, vision fuzzy and head pounding and lungs not working hard enough to keep her going. This has been the hardest night of her entire life and it's nowhere near over.  
  
_Get up. Get up get up get up get up-_  
  
She can't be weak or she loses everything. No one else to rely on. No one to help her. Everything counting on her resolve now. She grabs at her power, grits her teeth, drags every ounce of herself from its deepest depths and hurls it - and nothing comes. Just the hollow, horrible sucking feeling, like she's being ripped inside out. Nothing. She's spent. She's helpless. Helpless! Weapons everywhere and nothing she can grasp!  
  
How is her opponent still standing? _Invincible_ , her thoughts taunt her, _they called you invincible_.  
  
She has never conceded defeat. She can't do so now. Concentrate. Ignore Semblance and Aura - no time to drag whatever she has left out. Act on instinct. Put the monster down.  
  
She has too much to lose.  
  
Their weapons collide in midair, and something strikes home.  
  
The world explodes. Her legs buckle and she topples onto hands and knees. All at once the strength vanishes from her limbs. Not a champion anymore, not a demigod, not strong - she's tiny again, helpless, broken. _Get up_ , her thoughts taunt her, _get up, get up get up get up, everything depends on you, you have to be strong, you have to be-_  
  
This isn't how her life ends. She won't let it. She can't. Too much to do. Too much to _be_. But warm hands cup her chin. The touch is almost gentle. Eyes swallow hers - gloating, pitying, proud, the way they'd looked at her all those years ago, the way she'd sworn no one would _ever_ do so again. As if from somewhere far away, she hears speaking. But the words are all wrong, everything is wrong, this isn't how it happens, this can't be how-  
  
"Do you believe in destiny?"  
  
_"Yes."_  
  
A star explodes in her chest. The sucking hunger ignites and the world turns cherry-red. Old familiar flame spreads out through her lungs and roasts her insides. She tries to scream, but there's no air to give it force. Smells herself cooking. It's still growing, spreading through the back of her brain. She's felt this before, eating thought and feeling, flashing everything she is to _ash_ -  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Cinder Fall.  
  
Yes, she's Cinder Fall. Not a failure. Not dead _. Not Pyrrha Nikos._  
  
She's herself again. Trembling head to toe, smoke-smudged, buried in ash - her bedding, her nightclothes, her mattress. She gasps for air and bites the inside of her cheek before she can make a sound.  
  
_Weakness. I have no use for weakness._ It's Salem's angry purr in her brain. She clenches her fingers and bites down harder until the shaking stops. _You must be strong_ , _or I'll put you back where I found you_. _I won't permit it again_.  
  
Cinder gets up. There's just a faint flicker of red light in the room, wafting from her hands and eyes. It casts long warped shadows on the walls. She closes her eyes and clenches her jaw and fingers until she feels the bones grind together.  
  
_I refuse to be weak_ , she thinks. _Sentiment. Just childish fear_. She's thrown all that away.  
  
_What is wrong with me?_ another thought asks.  
  
_Nothing. Nikos is dead. Ozpin is broken. Beacon is a dead husk. I have defied gods and champions. I've won._  
  
_Have you?_  
  
It doesn't help. She's still shaking. Disgusting. Pathetic. Worthless. _Control yourself_. _Before they see. Before they see and everything is ruined. Don't throw everything away._  
  
She walks - no, she is _not_ "stumbling", if her gait is unsteady it's sleep and lingering pain from that _little red bitch's damnable eyes_ , not fear - to the bathroom. She needs to tame her body. Master it again, erase the evidence. Mercury and Emerald can't know - she's glad none of them had heard her cry out.  
  
The mirror is blank in the darkness. She reaches for her hairbrush, raises her free hand and wills a dancing tongue of flame into being.  
  
The hairbrush drops. Cinder's hands start to shake again. Bile floods her throat. _No. No no no. Impossible. Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare. Don't scream. Don't scream. Don't scream._  
  
Her reflection has the wrong eyes. A hint - just the faintest hint - of green.


	2. embers flicker

_Cinder Fall_

 

They're about a dozen miles out from civilization, deep in a forest of bloody red, when the beasts turn on her.  
  
Cinder doesn't get any warning. The Grimm are difficult to read in any case. They've been petulant, hostile, snarling, but they're always like that. Like their mistress, they have no patience for weakness.  
  
She's almost convinced herself the reflection was just her imagination. Mercury and Emerald haven't said anything about it. The former is his usual cocksure self, drunk on slaughter. The latter's been endlessly solicitous since they found her atop the tower. Cinder wouldn't mind leaning on her more - Emerald's worship has always been nothing if not gratifying, and the better to keep her little thief's mind from wandering back to the bloodbath they'd ushered in - but that way lies weakness, and dependency, and death.  
  
That leaves their fourth companion.  
  
Ozpin looks awful, and usually that pleases her. His ageless face is covered in bruises, abrasions and burns. His glasses are gone. Blood is caked in patches amidst the dusty gray of his hair. His clothes are torn and scorched. Emerald's tied his hands together with strong steel chains. He's not chained to them, but they all know if he tried to get far he'd be in trouble. Mercury walks three paces behind, idly whistling and almost skipping, his legs clicking on the earth. This isn't a good sign for Ozpin; hurting people is the best part of Mercury's day, and it doesn't take much for him to indulge himself.  
  
Ozpin hasn't said anything since they left Beacon a gutted husk. He hadn't even said anything when she told him what she'd done to Nikos. He just stares straight at her with those smug eyes she can feel grinding into her shoulders. At times he doesn't even seem alive, just a walking statue. Somehow, she's very certain _he's_ spotted the green in her eyes. Cinder counts to ten and remembers his expression sprawled on the floor of the vault, reminding herself that they've _had_ their clash, and imperious Professor Ozpin, headmaster of Beacon, bleeds and breaks like any man beneath her heels.  
  
"We're gonna need to get him some new clothes eventually," Mercury muses aloud. "He'll start to smell otherwise. Don't want to irritate our friends." The youth waves a hand theatrically in front of his nose.  
  
"Mercury, shut up." This from Emerald. The thief's never gotten used to the Grimm, and Cinder can see her fidgeting, shying slightly away from the beowulves circling and skulking slowly around them. They never quite pounce, but there's every indication their honor guard doesn't care at all for them.  
  
"I'm just saying, it can't help. It's bad manners-"  
  
"Mercury." This time Cinder speaks up. "Leave him be." It comes out harsher and sharper than she means for it to be. _Clumsy_ , Salem's purr chides in her head; she knows exactly what her "mentor" would say. _Give them nothing. Control yourself. You must radiate authority_.  
  
"Tch!" Her pet brute sneers. "It's for his sake really."  
  
Disgust twists inside her guts. _I hate people like him_ , she thinks suddenly, and doesn't know why. "It's for _your_ amusement. It's hundreds of miles to our destination, and I'm not interested in hearing you come up with new humiliations every few miles."  
  
"Would I do that, Cinder?"  
  
" _Mercury._ " Her snarl is a gunshot. She turns and feels something _burn_ inside her, and suddenly there's flames surging in her hands and flaring from her eyes. She remembers his smirk, that damnable smirk he was wearing when he _toyed with her_ in the arena, when he spat in her face and - yes, that was what he was doing, she realizes in a flash, that's why they knew to- to- make her kill- "I said. _ENOUGH."_  
  
Mercury takes two steps back, eyes suddenly wide and hands rising instinctively into a defensive stance. His face turns sullen. "Fine," he snarls. "If you're soft on him, then _you_ -"  
  
_Soft on him_?  
  
No, no, that's not right. She just doesn't want to- what- what is she doing?  
  
Her head is pounding. There's bile in her throat again. The Fall Maiden's power writhes in her chest, aching for release. She stares past Mercury to Ozpin, who's stopped walking and seems suddenly very present indeed. There's a flicker of shame in her chest. He doesn't change expression much, but suddenly his face isn't smug - it's intent, horrified, fascinated. She can feel him looking right through her. Just like he had in the vault, just like he had in his tower; oh _God_ , Professor, help me, I'm so sorry, what's wrong with me-  
  
"Cinder...?" It isn't Mercury. It's Emerald. Her thief is staring at her. Worried. Biting her lip. "Cinder, what's wrong? What's he doing to you?"  
  
_That's not my-_  
  
Cinder's head swims; her heart is a spark of fire in her chest. And this is when the Grimm pounce.


	3. near-death experience

_The Fall Maiden_

 

She doesn't see it coming, and can't muster the slightest conscious defense against the alpha's lunge. Aura flares and sparks outwards in instinctive response. It takes the brunt of the blow, but heavy claws rake along her spine in an unpleasant rhythm. Grimm-stink floods her nose - musty fur, drool, and that strange alien reek like wet rust and rotten blood. Simple weight differences do the rest and she's thrown from her feet, plowing a trail through the undergrowth and slamming headfirst into a tree.  
  
The world goes _fuzzy_ for one heart-stopping, impossible moment. She's gone. There's no landmarks, no sense of weight or place, past or present. It's terrifying and shameful and should be the end of her right there and then.  
  
_Where am I?_  
  
A sound. A girl screaming - terror, rage. Then another - bullets cracking, bestial snarls. Familiar sounds. Sounds that demand action. _Help her,_ she thinks. _You need her_. A pause. _She needs you_.  
  
She grabs onto the sound and burns the pain away, smashes the world back into focus and locks it there. _On your feet. Move it! Weapons._ Where are her weapons?  
  
Emerald is screaming and pouring a constant volley of fire into the pack's alpha. It's twice the girl's size. Her bullets don't do anything but make the creature angry. It's brave and reckless and stupid - the girl knows better, she knows how to be smart, she's seen her be patient and calm and calculating in the ring. Her concentration is gone. She'll show Emerald later, talk to her. Mercury, though - he can handle himself. The boy is a whirlwind of slashing legs, caught in a scrum of smaller beowulves all trying to pin him and rip him to pieces, but he's too quick, dancing between strikes to crack at knees and flanks and snarling jaws.  
  
And then there's - Professor Ozpin? Stock-still. Staring at her. Why isn't he moving?  
  
There's a flash of heat at her fingertips, which is strange, but then she's armed. Right. The texture's wrong - everything feels just slightly _off_ \- but there's no time for that now. No metal to worry about - blade against fang. Crouch low, weapons up, point down, left arm high. The world clicks into place like a sword in its sheath, and Grimm die.  
  
Abruptly, silence.  
  
She sucks in a deep breath and moves to clean her sword. It's just a ritual, not because she needs to worry about Grimm ichor lingering. But the sash isn't there at her waist, her greaves are missing, and instead there's a short, filmy skirt that exposes rather too much leg for practicality's sake. Where's her _armor_? What was she thinking, walking out in the woods in evening wear?  
  
A whole host of _wrong_ starts flaring up at once. The sword in her hand is too smooth, the shield's too light, her clothes are certainly nothing she's ever liked to wear- the shape of her is all-  
  
_Oh_ , Pyrrha thinks, and there's something like a ringing in her ears. A familiar, angry burn flares in her chest. _I remember now_.  
  
Vertigo. Two sets of memories slam into each other and shatter all over the inside of her brain. Too many swords. Milo and Akuo buckling and warping beneath her hands. Jaune screaming. Penny's skin buckling. Fire in her veins and the sound of her screams echoing off the metal capsule. Burning yellow eyes.  
  
An arrow cooking her insides.  
  
Putting the brave, stupid girl out of her misery/feeling herself crumble to nothing/black warmth/brilliant white cold-  
  
_I killed- I died- I_ am- _No I'm_ **not**!  
  
Her knees threaten to give out under her. The ringing is getting louder. She wants to retch. Not the right body, not the right mind, who is she-  
  
_Get out of my head._ A different thought, a hot thought, blazing and building to a volcano. _I killed you. You're ashes and failure. You're **gone**. You're **nothing! How dare you?**_  
  
_Then why am I here_? Who's even **talking**? Her temples threaten to split open. She remembers Cinder's _smirk_ and nausea builds - she's behind those horrid eyes, wearing that smug face, robbed of everything. _Wasn't killing me enough?_  
  
**GET OUT!**  
  
Someone swallows the snarl before it can get free. They feel the muscles in their throat working all the same. The headache splits open and there's a moment of - _chaos_. Weakness. Dizzy, spinning confusion as thoughts careen off each other and she grapples with herself. _Unforgivable_. Salem would be disappointed-  
  
Salem. The white face fills her mind and she grabs for it like a lifeline. Memories pour in - the cold angry purr, the cracked not-smile, the red eyes, regal authority she's borrowed like a cloak- she knows who Salem is. She knows who _she_ is.  
  
She's Cinder Fall again. She's the Fall Maiden, the _real_ Fall Maiden, seized in blood and battle, not the figurehead propped up by frightened old men. Nikos is a confused pull at the back of her head, like a dispersing current. Her muscles ache as if she's run a dozen miles. Her brain seems to slosh around inside her skull, and there's an ashy taste in her mouth.  
  
Emerald is staring at her, red eyes wet and almost glowing. "Cinder...?" Her thief reaches for her - but stops just shy of her hand, like she expects to get burned. "Cinder. Are- are you all right?"  
  
Cinder lowers her weapons. Her stance is awkward. She's never used a shield before, or a spear for that matter. "I-" Gratitude and terror - the thought makes her skin crawl - war in her heart. _She was afraid for me_.  
  
_Don't._ Salem's voice again. _Betray nothing. Give her nothing to hurt you. Don't confide in your tools. Trust is weakness._  
  
"Fine," Cinder snaps, as much to herself as Emerald. "I'm fine." Emerald's face falls a bit, and Cinder watches a dozen hopes and dreams fade back into night-time whispers. No, that's cr- _clumsy_ , it's just clumsy. Emerald's served her greatest purpose but she's useful. She's important. She risked her life for them. "Well done, Emerald," she lies. "I'm touched."  
  
The light in Emerald's eyes is like the sun coming up.  
  
"We taking trophies now?" It's Mercury, grinning and spattered in Grimm ichor, motioning to the _wrong_ weapons still in her hands. His eyes - filthy gray, nothing like Ruby's - why is she even thinking about the little red bitch? _He knows_ , she realizes, and rage flares in her chest. _The cocky little shit knows_ _something is wrong with me_. "Invincible Girl's look. I like it. Should've grabbed some myself."  
  
There is absolute agreement inside Cinder's head for just one moment. _I'm going to wipe that smirk off his face._  
  
"So," her brute continues, "what was _that_ about?" He gestures to the disintegrating bits of their escort, fur and bits of limbs and severed heads. "I thought you had them under control? Did they get too rowdy for your tastes?" His smirk splits wider. "I told you, Emerald - too skittish."  
  
"Mercury, shut up," Emerald mutters. She spits on the nearest grimm before its body collapses altogether. "Stupid animals."  
  
"They can smell _fear_ , y'know," Mercury says with a sneer. He turns around. "Hey, old man, you pissed your pants yet? What about you, Emmy?"  
  
Cinder doesn't think about it. She shatters Nikos' weapons into fragments of glittering glass - this is why she's stronger than Nikos, she can _do_ that to herself, make sacrifices the false Maiden never could. Then she takes three steps past Emerald, balls her fist, and knocks Mercury to the forest floor.  
  
She'll have to explain to Salem eventually that she hadn't been thinking clearly. That Mercury had clearly been challenging her authority, which of course cannot go unpunished. Usually she's gentler than this. Mercury requires a delicate touch and no small amount of pampering; he hates being reminded of his place. She's never struck him.  
  
It is, she has to admit, incredibly satisfying. He's back on his feet in a flash, tense and not-quite-glaring, blinking away tears. There's an ugly burn on his cheek.  
  
"What the _hell?"_  
  
"Mercury, do you doubt me?" _Radiate confidence_. _Don't threaten openly - rage is weakness._ Cinder focuses her will and cups fire in her palm. There's a hot, hungry warmth that spreads from head to toe. She can almost ignore the lingering burn in her chest that most certainly doesn't belong to her. "Have I lead you astray?"  
  
"You _killed our escort_ ," he says. "How are we supposed to get back to Her now?"  
  
"We walk. I'm sure you're familiar with it. Hitch a ride on the trains. They'll take us to the port and we'll get on a ship for Mistral."  
  
"All that way? It'll take _weeks!_ "  
  
"Maybe as long as a month," she replies. "Longer, maybe." She looks him up and down, pointedly lingering on his legs. Her brute grasps her meaning immediately, and the petulance is replaced for a moment with true fear. _Keep him off balance. You need him distracted_. _Pliable_.  
  
"We'll start tomorrow," she adds. "It's time we rested. This is as good a place as any. Let's make camp. Mercury, Emerald, why don't you go hunting? Unchain him."  
  
"You'll be alone with him?" Emerald glares past Cinder to Ozpin. The former headmaster still hasn't moved. "After what he did to you?"  
  
"I've been before." Cinder closes her eyes. _You know something, old man. I'm going to burn it out of you_.  
  
She almost believes it.


	4. spite

_Mercury Black_

 

He needs to kill something.  
  
It’s tough to slow down his heartbeat. There’s a coppery taste in his mouth and phantom pains throbbing at the stumps of his thighs. _I didn't do anything wrong. Think that was cute, Cinder? Think you were being so coy?_ That _look_... he hadn't seen that one in a very long time.  
  
Mercury half hopes for a few frisky Grimm and fuck the consequences. Animals don’t cut it to vent his frustrations. They cower, whimper – _Sirius is a limp little bundle in his arms -_ and they aren’t the right shape. Now, beowulves… they’re close enough to man-shaped, and they don’t leave a mess afterwards. Shame none of them seem to be about. He doesn't even have to worry about offending Her.  
  
What’s _with_ Cinder?  
  
“Hey, Em.” He times this just right. Emerald’s taking aim, staring down her pistol’s barrel at an unsuspecting deer grazing from a wild peach tree. She jumps, squeezes the trigger. Her gun barks too early. Stupid beast nearly jumps out of its skin when it bolts.  
  
“What the _hell_ , Mercury?” She spins and takes a swing at him with her free hand. It bounces off his raised forearm. _Left your knee open, Emmy darling. Aura or not, a kick there drops you on the floor._ He doesn’t particularly _want_ to do it, but the thought’s good for a laugh.  
  
“Something’s up with Cinder.”  
  
“Wow, Mercury, you’re a genius!” She rolls her eyes at him. “I’d _never_ have guessed that!”  
  
“You see what happened when our fuzzy friends got uppity?” _She froze up. Cinder_ doesn’t _freeze up_ – _wrong theme, heh. Not her color_.  
  
“She looked confused-“  
  
“You mean afraid. Weird, huh? You ever seen her afraid? ‘Cause I haven’t - over there.” He twists on one heel and idly kicks one of Emerald’s pistols from her grip. She curses, tries to catch it – _too slow, Emmy_ \- but he’s faster. The pistol _cracks_ in his hand.  
  
A rabbit whistles out a little shriek and topples into the underbrush. It flails and squirms and shudders as it dies. Mercury makes a face. _Not much meat on it, but eh, it’s something_.  
  
Emerald looks like she’s about to kill him. Her eyes narrow to slits - _oh shit, dangerous, don't push it_. “Give. It. Back!”  
  
He laughs. “Sure, Em, sure.” A flick of the wrist sends her precious little toy whirling at her fast enough that she barely keeps from getting sliced by the blades. “See, that’s why I got mine bolted on.”  
  
_-taste of chloroform on his tongue, bared muscles steaming, legs gone numb and cold beneath the knee. Violated. Sour stink of rotgut and antiseptic. Dad,_ why?  
  
She scowls at him. “Don’t do that again.”  
  
Mercury rolls his eyes. “It’s something to _kill_ people with, Emerald, not your puppy.”  
  
“Thug.” Emerald takes a deep breath and rolls her eyes. She runs a hand through her hair. “And yeah. I saw it. I’m worried about her.”  
  
“Don’t let her hear you say that. She won’t be happy.”  
  
“She pushes herself too hard. The doctor said she had to rest for more than a week.”  
  
“The doc nearly got himself burnt to a crisp for his trouble. Aren’t _smart_ people supposed to go to medical school? You’d think they’d get weeded out.” That’d been good for a laugh, too, watching Cinder seethe.  
  
“What’s wrong with you? Will you be serious?”  
  
“No. Look, you want to tell Cinder what to do, be my guest. I’d think you’d be happy about this, Emmy. Maybe she’ll _swoon_ again. Let you _sweep_ her into your arms and comb her hair and tell her it's all going to be fine, you'll take care of-”  
  
Emerald turns an amusing shade of peach-brown and it’s all he can do to keep from cracking up. “Don’t you give a damn, Mercury? She’s too stubborn to take care of herself! She ought to be resting up after whatever the hell Ruby did to her-” and at _Ruby_ , Emerald’s voice turns murderous. “I swear, if that asshole hadn’t been there I’d have cut her-“  
  
_Don’t tell either of them you could’ve knocked Red’s skull open._  
  
“Easy, might want to keep your fantasies to yourself. There are _children_ present.” He waggles an eyebrow. “Maybe that’s it. Maybe she’s just – I don’t know. Not used to getting her ass handed to her?”  
  
Mercury lies. Something _is_ wrong with Cinder. She’s not like this usually. She’s _languid_. Slow, calculating, confident. He’d expected her to be insufferable now that Little Miss Badass was pushing up daisies properly and Ozpin’s being practically lead around on a leash.  
  
Bears watching.  
  
“I heard her screaming in her sleep,” Emerald says abruptly.  
  
“…You _listen to her sleep?_ Dust, Emmy, stalker much?”  
  
Oh, what happens to Emerald’s face is a marvel.  
  
“I- I’m looking in on her, you asshole! She was _hurt_. We couldn’t wake her up! She’d do it for me. She’d do it for you!”  
  
_Maybe_ , Mercury adds quietly, though he doubts it. Hell, he half suspects Cinder would've tried to get rid of him before now. They didn't find that weird chick - Neo? - and Cinder's not exactly looked for her. _But not the way you are_. _You can’t even see that, can you?_ He used to be a bit sore about that, but he’s given up Emerald as a lost cause a long time ago.  
  
“Just – tell me I’m not imagining it, alright?”  
  
“Didn’t say you were. That thing with Invincible Girl’s weapons – what the hell was that?” He _knew_ those moves. He hadn't realized Cinder did too.  
  
Emerald looks vaguely sick to be reminded of that again. “Ugh. Tell me about it. I know she says she’s from Mistral but she hasn't _fought_ like it before. I didn’t know she knew how."  
  
"You've been with her longer. She ever use a shield before?"  
  
"No. Bow-blade. Nature's wrath. Never a shield. It's... not right on her."  
  
_Save me from traditionalists and their superstitions._ He rolls his eyes and folds his arms. “Something’s up with her. You wanna be the one who asks her, be my guest. I'm not stickin' my neck out any further. She's in a killing mood."  
  
_Maybe she'll knock Ozpin about some more_. Happy thought. He'd rather do it himself. Something about the headmaster reminds him of Dad - the hair, or the cold calculating look in his eyes.  
  
- _every kick is a stab into the meat of his legs. He doesn't care. They're not_ done _, not yet. He keeps kicking long after resistance ends._


	5. inquisition

_The Fall Maiden  
_

 

Cinder waits until Mercury and Emerald are well away from their camp. It won't do to have them questioning her any further. She sits down with legs folded and pulls out her needle and thread. Knitting calms her - weaving strands together, bending order out of chaos. It's another way to master her thoughts, project confidence, beat her unruly body and mind into the proper shape.  
  
The two of them sit alone and silent. Sunset paints them crimson. Cinder's jaw tightens. She stands and sets the half-mended dress aside. Her heels click on the forest floor.  
  
"Ozpin."  
  
He looks up. His face is a blank and battered mask. Brown eyes are still, slightly bloodshot. It’s pathetic, but the sight of his face bloodied and mauled makes her sick. It’s Nikos’ influence, it has to be. _Get out of my head, dead girl_.  
  
“You saw something. Right before the Grimm turned on us. What?”  
  
He doesn’t answer. There’s a little curl of his lips, nothing more. _Defiance. Good_. _I know what to do about that._ Sparks kindle in her chest. Cinder’s eyes narrow.  
  
She grabs his arm and reaches for Fall’s power. The hunger ignites.  
  
Ozpin tries to jerk away. She holds fast, fingers clamping down on the meat of his forearm. Skin sears and sizzles. His sleeve crumbles and chars to ash. Aura flurries green like spraying blood. The beaten headmaster doesn’t quite scream, but the muscles stand out taut in his neck, and a little whimpering hiss slips out from between his clenched teeth.  
  
“We’re due for a talk, Ozpin.” Cinder lets go.  
  
“Must we?”  
  
It’s the first real words he’s spoken to them in days.  
  
“I’m being generous. Every breath you take is a gift. Don’t I deserve some gratitude?”  
  
Ozpin hisses out a sigh. He lifts his bound hands and stares at the new burn like it doesn’t belong to him. “I am ever so grateful.”  
  
“Don’t be clever.”  
  
“I was dead the moment I failed in the vault, Miss Fall. I accepted that. I assume you’re taking me to Salem, whom I’ve known far longer than you’ve been alive.” He shrugs, as if to sum up the entire scene. “She likes to play with her food. What difference does it make how long you drag this out?”  
  
_-old familiar burns at neck and shoulder, scars taut on her back, whip-crack voice demanding she **focus** -_  
  
“How much you _hurt_.” Cinder bites the words out. The venom in her voice startles her. _Clumsy. Control yourself._ “She wants you. Alive. Everything else is up to me.”  
  
Ozpin looks up at her again. He rises slowly, favoring his bad leg. “Is that all?” He clasps his bound hands together. She’s never seen so much anger in his eyes, but his voice is mild. “Do you think I’m afraid of you?”  
  
She’s lit the flame again before she has time to think about it, ready to cast it right into his smug face. There’s that _look_ from another face, the contempt, the dismissive arrogance. _Teach him fear_ – _no, stop it, don't let him control you._  
  
Cinder leans in close until their faces are almost touching, eyes locked. “You should be.”  
  
“Well, as the past few days have illustrated, I’m not always the wisest man in the room.” Ozpin smiles, made hideous by bruises and burns. “Despite all my efforts Miss Nikos, Miss Polendina, and many others are dead. But here you sit: young, strong, clever, and so very, very _stupid_.”  
  
_Go on. Goad me._ She clenches her fingers and feels flames dance in her palms. “This will take as long as it has to take. It will hurt as much as I need for it to hurt. What. Did. You. See?”  
  
He sighs. “Pain. Confusion. Fear. I won’t ignore that. Even from you, I’m afraid.”  
  
“I’m not one of your _students_ , old man! I don’t need your pity!”  
  
“Aren’t you?”  
  
She doesn’t fall, but it’s a close thing. The ashy taste is back in her mouth and her hands itch to close around Ozpin’s throat. _You know. You fucking know. Stop dancing around and admit it. Say it! Tell me I’m losing my mind. Tell me that you planned this. Admit you sacrificed Nikos to infect me-_  
  
“No,” she snaps at last.  
  
“Do forgive me, Miss Fall – I’m curious, was that always your name? I’ll only credit serendipity so far.” His speech is as regular and even as his damned clocks. “I’ve not had my morning coffee in days. My mind wanders. Your ghoulish little pantomime with Miss Nikos’ weapons confused me.” He closes his eyes. “There, answered. Are we done?”  
  
One of them is going to have to say it eventually. She doesn’t know how, doesn’t want to hand this calculating old spider a weapon. _Betray nothing_ , Salem’s lessons repeat, _betray nothing betray nothing trust is weakness weakness is death_ -her head is splitting open and the old scars ache- she can almost smell her flesh sizzling-  
  
Her world _slides_ , inverts on itself, comes apart in a screaming burst and clicks and hums back into focus.  
  
“Professor, I’m scared.”  
  
_What? No. **No. Stop** it._  
  
These are distant thoughts, angry thoughts: fists pounding on the other side of a mirror.  
  
Pyrrha puts a hand over her mouth. It’s the wrong hand, the wrong mouth, the wrong _everything_. Cinder’s body holds her badly. She feels hollowed out. An unfamiliar Semblance and Fall’s power burn in her core.  
  
Ozpin’s pupils have almost swallowed his eyes. He _knows_. She’s sure of it now. Both of her are sure. Cinder’s rage becomes a silent scream. _You can see me_. _You can feel me_. _I’m real. I’m not just madness. But I died!_  
  
“Professor.” She speaks slowly, trying to ignore her stolen voice. “I’m sorry.” It’s not just Cinder’s instincts she’s fighting here. “I failed. I-” Her voice catches. “Is- is everyone…?”  
  
“I’m afraid I don’t know.” He speaks softly. She can hear the awe in his voice.  
  
“Jaune-“  
  
“You could answer better than I.” Ozpin’s voice is very gentle. “I never saw him again.”  
  
She has to know. Ozpin doesn’t. Cinder must. She grits her teeth and grinds her knuckles against her temples. _You know. Tell me. Tell me now!_  
  
**_NO._**  
  
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts – she’s burning from the inside out. Cinder kills her again a dozen times in as many heartbeats. She can _feel_ the arrow in her chest; the fire spreads through her temples and leaves her in ashes. She can’t hold herself together. She’s crumbling-  
  
-burning, screaming in a high-pitched child’s voice as the whip-crack voice demands she be **silent** -  
  
Salem’s first lesson: pain is clarity. She seizes it and claws her way back on top, sucking it in, shoving Nikos’ disgusting _weak, sentimental_ thoughts back into the black where they belong. There’s a confused blur of memories spilling out – blue eyes, blonde hair, soft lips on hers – and Nikos fades.  
  
“Ah.” Ozpin’s voice.  
  
Cinder blinks away tears someone else cried. She glares at Ozpin. “You did this to me.” It’s not a question. She longs to break him again.  
  
“It would be so much easier for you, wouldn’t it?” His voice is vaguely sad. “No, Miss Fall. _You_ did this to you.”


	6. escape

_The Fall Maiden_

 

Dinner had been a sullen affair.  
  
Emerald and Mercury made no comment on Ozpin’s new burns. Mercury didn’t speak to Cinder at all, though he spent half the dinner trying to antagonize Ozpin. Emerald fidgeted and looked several times like she _almost_ wanted to say something, but all she offered was mindless small talk that Cinder tuned out.  
  
She expected trouble from the beaten headmaster the whole time. He ate mechanically with his chained hands, face still and placid. Mercury’s sneers and taunts got no reaction.  
  
An inner voice – at times Salem, at times her own - wouldn’t shut up. _He knows. He’ll ruin everything. Why did you let him see?_  
  
They’re all asleep now. It’s her watch. Mercury and Emerald are sprawled out in their sleeping bags. Ozpin is chained to a tree, eyes shut. Their fire is nothing more than embers, and Forever Fall is nearly pitch-black. Things move among the trees.  
  
Cinder sits with her knees folded together in front of the fire.  
  
_“You did this to you_ ,” he’d said.  
  
Her lips curl contemptuously. The arrogance! Beaten, broken, his domain in ashes, his champion dead and Ozpin is still lecturing in riddles and half-truths.  
  
Cinder has to deal with this swiftly. Dispose of him swiftly – he must be behind it, somehow. Before – her mouth goes dry at the thought of what Salem will say. Her guts turn in knots. _Doubt is for others, my little Cinder_. The old scars ache.  
  
_“Was that always your name?”_  
  
There’s something eating its way through her chest. Anger wards it off for a moment. She rises and clenches a fist tight. Flames spread up her forearm and spill out of her eyes. Power’s heady euphoria sets her heart racing.  
  
“ _I want to be strong_.”  
  
Her feet lift off the ground. Cinder slips free of gravity, fear, weakness, mortality. Magic thrums through her veins. She remembers Beacon burning, and she smiles. Fall’s power waxes through her and aches for more. Leaves swirl around her, flashing to ash and embers.  
  
_Ozpin is nothing_.  
  
She is a goddess. How could Amber have hidden this? How could she content herself with those petty men’s warnings? Power is meant to be _used_.  
  
_You will never touch this, Nikos. You won't take this from me_.  
  
She cups a star between her hands and throws it aloft. It shoots skyward with a high angry whistle. There’s a flash so bright she feels it cut through her, and Forever Fall is lit by a brief, hungry red sun for what seems like forever.  
  
_No one will ever hurt me again_.  
  
  
  
She doesn’t mean to fall asleep.  
  
She dreams of a soft-spoken woman and a man with kind soft eyes, a warm soft bed and the dull burn of Mistral cooking.  
  
She dreams of cheering crowds, of fierce hot pride, of sweat and dust and clashing steel. She dreams of victory. She dreams of loneliness.  
  
She dreams of ginger hair atop a whirlwind in human flesh, of soft pink eyes and a softer voice, of disgusting herbal drinks and sweet pancakes.  
  
She dreams of blonde hair and a sheepish smile. Of a gangly boy in a dress who wears it like a king’s robes. Of blades clashing and interlocking like dancers’ limbs and nights spent laughing beneath the stars.  
  
She does not dream of Cinder Fall.  
  
  
  
Dreams waver and peel back into pre-dawn gray.  
  
She’s sitting with her back pressed to a tree. Bark rubs uncomfortably against her shoulder blades.  
  
_This isn’t my body_.  
  
She doesn’t want to follow that thought. Doesn’t want to ponder the implications or relive her death again.  
  
_This isn’t my face_.  
  
She buries it in foreign hands, splays the fingers wide and presses them into soft skin. Searches, instinctively, for seams in a mask that isn’t there.  
  
_“That’s-“_  
  
_“-Classified.”_  
  
_“-wrong!”_  
  
A giggle bubbles up Pyrrha’s throat, frantic and just a little bit mad. _This is the worst joke in history_.  
  
And that does it. The floodgates burst. Phantom-ash taste fills her mouth. Her eyes burn and she chokes out a sob and the world blurs with hot tears.  
  
_I am a dead girl wearing my killer’s skin_.  
  
She’s a monster out of fairy tales now.  
  
Pyrrha wants to die- no, the thought makes her hands shake and her world twist. She knows what dying is _like_. She doesn’t want to die. She’s touched that veil and doesn’t want to go back. Not yet.  
  
She wants Jaune. She wants Ren and Nora. She wants Ruby and Weiss and Blank and Yang. She wants – she wants to wake up in her bed in Beacon with this all a fever-dream. God and Dust, she'll tackle Jaune off his bed, kiss him senseless, tear off his clothes- just, just, _let this be a dream, please._ Please.  
  
_“None of this was supposed to happen!”_  
  
She can’t – can’t keep thinking this. _Hold together. Be the Invincible Girl_. _This is a challenge. Overcome it._  
  
Pyrrha has a great deal of practice conquering challenges.  
  
_This isn’t you._  
  
She bites down and reaches into herself. Something hot smolders in her core, like a sleeping dragon. Cinder. Is she asleep? Raging? There’s no _feel_ of her killer’s mind awake…  
  
Those are not promising thoughts either. _Block them out_.  
  
It’s difficult to calm herself without Milo and Akuo, or the reassuring weight of her panoply. Cinder’s earrings don’t feel right, and her Semblance feels weak and wavering. That leaves the older exercises, the simpler ones, the ones Mother drilled into her from before she could walk. Pyrrha sucks in long slow breaths of forest air, exhales long and slow through her mouth. Slowly her heart eases in her chest and the ashy taste fades. _Find your lodestone. Count to ten. Build a fortress in your mind_.  
  
She rises slowly, as if sudden movement will wake the body’s rightful owner. It’s strange to be reminded of how much she’d taken her toned body for granted. Cinder’s legs are longer than hers were, but thinner. Without battle to guide her, walking feels clumsy.  
  
She crosses the glade, resolutely avoiding the two forms sleeping in their bags, and kneels before the chained sleeper bound to a tree. She reaches out.  
  
“Professor.”  
  
Ozpin’s eyes snap open.  
  
It’s horrifying to look at him this close. She’s never seen the headmaster so mangled. No, she has – someone else’s memories bubble up, Aura and skin splitting beneath her knuckles as she pounds Ozpin’s face again and again and again-  
  
_No_. _That is not me_.  
  
His lips work, but she puts a finger over them. He speaks in a strained whisper. “Miss Nikos?”  
  
She nods, not trusting herself to reply. Chains jingle as she teases them free of Ozpin’s hands, undoes the ones binding him to the tree. It takes some doing – her Semblance still seems frail, and she doesn’t want to hurt him.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“You need to go.” God, Cinder’s stolen voice feels so _wrong_ coming from her lips. The contempt… It makes Pyrrha’s skin crawl. “Quickly.”  
  
There’s enough of the headmaster of Beacon still in Ozpin for him to raise an eyebrow. “Speed may be…difficult, in my present condition. What do you think they’ll do to you when they find me gone?”  
  
“There’s no _time_ , Professor.”  
  
“There’s always time to think things through, Miss Nikos.” He takes a deep breath and sits back down. “What about you? Are you coming with me?”  
  
“No.” She can’t. Cinder won’t sleep forever. "I don't know how long I have."  
  
The thought makes her shudder. What _happens_ to her when she… goes away? Does she _die_ again? No, there’s too much memory. Is she _Cinder_? A murderer convincing herself she’s her victim-  
  
“No.”  
  
“No?”  
  
“I’m not leaving one of my students alone in such company. Chain me back up, please. Not too gently.” He winks, with a wince. “You’ll need to make it convincing.”  
  
“They’ll _kill_ you, professor.” He can’t do this to her. Pyrrha’s resolve is weakening. Her knees wobble and she feels the tears coming on again. He needs – he needs to go, before she fails again, before she loses everything again- “Just tell Jaune I… tell him I love him, and I’m sorry.”  
  
“I doubt that. But I have made my decision.” His hand shoots out and closes on hers – she jumps, heart racing. “I’ve endured pain before. It will pass. Leaving you won’t.”  
  
“I’ve died _already_ , Professor! Please – don’t make me a failure _again-_ “  
  
“You were never a failure, Miss Nikos.” Ozpin’s eyes swallow hers as he squeezes her wrist tight.  
  
Her strength is faltering. "Professor-" She licks her lips. Chains clink as she works with suddenly clumsy hands. "Am I - am I real?"  
  
"Absolutely." He squeezes again and gently pushes her away. “I am so very sorry for everything I’ve cost you.”


	7. winter of our discontent

_The Fall Maiden_

  
Autumn dies in the span of two nights.  
  
Piles of buried leaves protrude from new-fallen snow. The still cold air is a teasing knife. Aura blunts winter’s bite for Emerald and Mercury, and Fall’s power throbs in Cinder’s skin, but it’s slow going.  
  
Moods have soured.  
  
“He’s slowing us down,” Mercury observes, leaning against a tree as they stop for a breather. The rail lines slice through the canyon ahead, black on white. There's a dull, irritating thrum in the air from the struggling heating circuits. They've no idea when the trains are due.  
  
“Apologies,” Ozpin quips. That’s new. His teeth are chattering, cheeks too ruddy where they aren’t bruised. Even with the chains gone from his wrists, he looks thoroughly miserable. It makes the barbed cheer in his voice even more grotesque.  
  
Cinder distrusts his sudden compliance even more than she did his silence.  
  
“This would be easier,” the former headmaster adds, “if I had my cane. I don’t suppose you picked it up?”  
  
Mercury knows when he’s being mocked. Her brute’s lips peel back and his teeth gleam, feral and sharp. Cinder isn’t surprised when Mercury kicks Ozpin’s feet out from under him with one nonchalant sweep.  
  
“ _Stop-”_ bubbles up to the tip of her tongue, but she bites it back. Mercury needs it. Ozpin could use a reminder.  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mercury is saying with feather-light insincerity. “Clumsy. Cold always messes with these things.” He reaches down. “Here, allow me, old-timer.”  
  
Ozpin stares at Mercury, eyes narrowed. “I know how inconvenient a bad leg is,” he says at last. He takes Mercury’s hand. The muscles in his jaw go taut when Mercury jerks him too swiftly to his feet.  
  
“Up you go.” Mercury dusts his hands off. “What’d you do without me?”  
  
“Be sitting in my office nursing my afternoon cocoa. Do you have some, by any chance?”  
  
“I’m sorry, but the stink of testosterone is getting unbearable.” Emerald’s voice is corrosive with false cheer. “Why don’t you two save us all time and whip them out so we can compare lengths?”  
  
“Naughty mind, Emmy! That’s the spirit! Broaden your horizons!”  
  
“Mercury, God and Dust, I swear-”  
  
“ **Enough!”**  
  
The snarl boils out from between her lips, hot and heavy like molten lead. _Clumsy_. She’s been so reckless since Fall found its rightful home. It’s a moment before she realizes her dress is smoldering. The snow at her feet steams.  
  
All three of them have fallen silent.  
  
Cinder rubs at her nose and sucks in a long slow breath. _Take control again. He’s goading you._ Ozpin is a manipulator, willing to suffer pain. He's _strong_. She can't give him an inch's dominance. “Ozpin, I need you alive for now.”  
  
“I’d hate to inconvenience you by dying from something as merciful as frostbite or pneumonia, Miss Fall.”  
  
“Keep warm using your Aura.” It’s a bad idea, she knows that immediately. _Hand him a weapon, why don’t you?_ “I don’t expect to feel a flicker more than that.”  
  
“I am so very grateful for your kindness,” Ozpin drawls.  
  
“Or you can freeze. It’s your choice.” She turns away from him and leans against a trunk. The bark smokes beneath her fingers. _Calm, calm, calm_.  
  
They need to move quicker. She’ll have to kill Ozpin if he keeps doing this. Salem’s purr fills her brain. _They’ll doubt you if you lose control. Turn on you. Ozpin can offer them everything._  
  
Her scars hurt.  
  
What did Nikos say to him? She wants to reach in and drag the ghost out screaming, but – no, bury her deep, bury her quiet.  
  
Emerald’s touch on her shoulder is hesitant, but Cinder nearly jumps out of her skin. _She **touched** you._ Her lungs empty with one great hiss, her heart jerks to the side, and for a second there’s the _smell_ – earthy sweat, old blood-  
  
Her hand closes on Emerald’s wrist and clamps down hard with a viper’s speed. She feels the girl’s wrist _pop_ beneath her fingers. There’s heat at her fingertips, throbbing dull rage, and it takes gritted teeth to keep from burning where they touch.  
  
“Cinder?” Emerald’s voice cracks.  
  
To her credit, her thief doesn’t flee. Doesn’t beg. Doesn’t make excuses. She freezes in place. Cinder half-turns to face her. Emerald’s red eyes are wide and steady and her shoulders are tense. One of her hands is fidgeting at her waist, but she never actually reaches for the weapon tucked there.  
  
“Don’t do that again.” Cinder fights to hold her usual lilting tones. “You know better.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” her thief murmurs, and she can almost feel her droop. She steps slightly back, giving Cinder space.  
  
“Good.” Cinder lets go and watches her thief shake the stiff wrist out. She composes herself. “What is it, Emerald?”  
  
“Cinder - I, um. This is a terrible idea.”  
  
_Punish her,_ Salem’s lessons demand. _Put her in her place_.  
  
Cinder glares. She feels the heat sparking at the corners of her eyes. But Emerald’s face… is strange. There’s no anger, no defiance. Just… fear. For who? For herself? _Of course, she’s at risk too._  
  
She relaxes. “I’m-“ _sorry?_ What? “-listening.”  
  
“He’ll turn on us in a second.”  
  
“I can’t keep him warm. We need to get him on the train. He can’t do either freezing to death."  
  
"I understand." Emerald hesitates. "I don't trust him, Cinder. He-" there’s an awkward pause, neither of them sure how to address the issue, "-he did something to you back there."  
  
"I don't either." Cinder takes Emerald’s hand again, but this time her squeeze is gentle. This is nothing like the clumsy façade of seduction she'd played with Roman to amuse herself. Her thief relaxes, eyes shining.  
  
"That's why I need _you_ to keep an eye on him,” she adds. “Mercury's having too much fun. You know how he is. You're dependable."  
  
Emerald beams.  
  
"We've been together a long time, Emerald. I know I can trust you." It's so _easy_. She paints a sheepish smile on her face. "Sorry about the missed meals." She reaches down to her pack where she’s dropped it to the ground and digs through her supplies. A trail bar gets flung in Emerald’s direction.  
  
"Oh, it's- it's nothing, Cinder. I knew this wasn't going to be easy." Her thief isn’t so proud as to not snatch the bar from the air. It disappears in moments with a crunch.  
  
“You’ve done very well,” Cinder adds softly. “You know I only give you so much to do because I trust you can handle it.” It goes against everything Salem said for her to continue. “Is there anything else?”  
  
Obviously, there is. Emerald’s brows furrow and her eyes crinkle at the edges. Cinder waits to see if her thief has the boldness to speak up.  
  
“Are-“  
  
A train whistle’s long, low hoot rolls across the forest.  
  
Cinder puts a finger to Emerald’s lips. “Later,” she promises. She isn’t entirely sure if she’s being honest. “We’ll have time on the train.”  
  
Emerald isn’t happy – she can tell immediately – but her thief falls back into old habits. “Of course.”  
  
Happy can wait. _Obedience will suffice_ , Cinder thinks half-mockingly, and it’s Salem’s voice in her head. _Your move, Ozpin_.  
  
They turn together to watch the train approach. It’s a long black snake blasting across the landscape, kicking up a long thick wake of flying snow behind it. Cinder’s heart picks up, but for once it’s not indecision or anxiety. She could do this as a mortal. Now the only challenge is avoiding new worshippers.  
  
“They’re not going to stop,” Ozpin observes. “I suppose you have a plan?”  
  
“One you’ll love, Ozpin,” Cinder says. “Mercury, Emerald, Ozpin?” She smiles at them, all teeth, and kicks up into the air in a surge of sudden flame. “Landing strategies.” Where had _that_ come from? “Don’t you worry about falling, I’ll look after you.”  
  
  
  
Credit where credit's due. Cinder’s actually impressed by how smoothly the old man sticks the landing. It’s another reminder not to underestimate him.  
  
She descends on the train and lands next to him in a swirl of frost and flame, touching down light as a feather. It’s exhilarating, touching Fall’s power so openly, but she tries to hide the smirk. Mercury lands moments later, confident and cocksure, rolling back to his feet in one sinuous motion.  
  
And Emerald is a blur, a whistle of chains and flying blades. She lands lighter than Mercury just as another wall of flying snow and gusty winds slaps into them like a great white hand, hand-scythes digging into the train. The train weaves on its tracks, bucks sickeningly beneath them.  
  
They all stumble together.  
  
Emerald’s fingers slip. She wavers, scrabbling for purchase, and falls.  
  
_No!_  
  
Cinder reaches with everything she has, hand and Aura both. Her fingers close on skin, her feet seek purchase on the smooth metal carriage. There’s a jerk all the way up her arm and into her shoulder. Emerald’s eyes are locked on hers, mouth wide with shock.  
  
“Grab onto something!” Mercury snaps from behind them. His fingers close on her wrist, anchoring her as best he can. “Emmy, get an anchor-“  
  
Another shriek of punctured metal as Emerald’s remaining kama sinks home.  
  
“I’m – I’m trying!” Emerald is barely audible. She’s horribly close to the ground; the bucking train seems determined to drive her dangling legs beneath the wheels, and Cinder can picture the results with horrible clarity. “Cin-“  
  
“OZPIN!” Cinder doesn’t know what she expects, or why she asks. But Mercury’s grip is suddenly steadier. She grits her teeth and pulls with all her might. Her muscles scream. She reaches out to the winds and demands their fealty, twisting them around Emerald, grabbing with a vast airy hand-  
  
Emerald slams into her chest hard enough to knock all four of them to the train floor.  
  
Stars burst through Cinder’s head. She doesn’t hit _that_ hard, but her Aura only somewhat dulls the blow. Pain spikes through her. The ringing in her ears starts up again, or is that the train wheels shrieking over old, much-abused rails?  
  
All four of them lie there in a heap, panting for breath, coughing on frost. Cinder pushes herself up on her palms. She feels Mercury against her back, and another weight that must be Ozpin.  
  
“Too close,” Emerald pants. Cinder can feel her thief shaking. “Too fucking close.”  
  
“Too close,” Cinder agrees.  
  
Taking a breather seems like an excellent idea. She doesn’t even feel that _cold_ , somehow. There’s this strange fluttery warmth hovering somewhere around her – or, hanging in the air, really. It’s like the wind, but it’s going the wrong direction. Is it something to do with Fall?  
  
“Emerald.” It’s Ozpin’s rusty voice. “I hope you won’t take this personally, but your landing strategy could use work.”  
  
“Go to hell, Ozpin,” Emerald drawls.  
  
Cinder’s not sure who starts laughing first, but soon they’re all giggling like idiots.  
  
“We need to get inside,” she says, when the fit’s passed and there’s just that lingering headache and the dull sense of shame. “Not much crew on supply trains like these. It’ll be easy to stow away in a car somewhere.”  
  
“Four walls and warmth? The lap of luxury.” Mercury dusts the snow off his pants. “This is only going to get worse.”  
  
“Right.” Cinder stretches and rises, refusing to let herself wobble. She narrows her eyes and shades them from the flying snow. “That car, over there.” She points back towards the rear of the train. “It looks solid enough.”  
  
Slowly they pick their way across the open carriage, avoiding pallets and drums and crates of goodness knows what. Dust, probably, but Cinder almost dares to hope for proper food. The warm feeling is ahead of her now, and she dares to hope the car might be heated – like calling to like, perhaps, flame to heat.  
  
And then she holds up a hand when they’re half a dozen paces from the car.  
  
“You hear that?”  
  
It’s faint, just barely audible over the screech-clatter of wheels on rails. Low voices, muffled by metal walls, but echoing. The four of them exchange a glance.  
  
“Other stowaways,” Mercury guesses. He rubs his fingers together. “Just our type of people.”  
  
“You do realize,” Ozpin observes in his rusty voice, “that they’ll recognize me instantly.”  
  
“We can always keep you out here. There’s some crates that might do for shelter.”  
  
“How generous.”  
  
“Mercury.” Cinder smiles. “I’m sure I can convince them to be hospitable. We’re all friends here, aren’t we? Outcasts on the run?” She motions to him. _Back me up_. “Emerald, you watch Ozpin, and be ready to baffle our friends if they get uppity.”  
  
Her fingers close on chilled metal. The door mechanism is sticky and stiff with cold, but it takes only a flutter of Fall’s power to melt away the ice forming in the gears. Cinder can almost touch the warmth now. She’s had enough of wintry chill.  
  
_I can relax,_ she thinks. _Sort my thoughts. Consider what to do next_. _It’s a long way to Mistral_.  
  
The door groans open. She pulls it wide, steps inside.  
  
The car’s long and wide, filled with crates. It’s heated, or at least climate controlled; the warmth is delightful. Cinder smells cured meat and bread, sawdust, preservatives. Her mouth waters and her stomach growls.  
  
Huddled near the front of the car in blankets are four figures made shapeless by the dimness. They’re playing cards together by the wavering light of a Dust lantern, packs slung carelessly next to them. As Cinder’s slippers chime on the metal floor, they jump – guilty consciences flaring, no doubt. She’s got a dozen heartbeats to take control of the situation.  
  
“Now, now,” she purrs, smiling as the old familiar mantle of control settles onto her shoulders. “Don’t get up, don’t mind us-“  
  
There's a soft gasp from the four.  
  
One of them stands slowly. Then another, and another, one by one. The closest's gloved fingers curl into fists as they turn around, tipping back a deep red hood.  
  
Silver eyes swallow Cinder Fall.  
  
- _it burns it freezes it bites make it stop make it stop get away-_  
  
Her chest is collapsing in on itself. Her heart is exploding. She’s drowning.  
  
Cinder stumbles back from the door, raising her hands to ward it off, block it out, _stop looking at me, don’t look, don’t look_ \- **_GET CONTROL OF YOURSELF-_** pain is clarity weakness is death fight it, fight it, it's just memories-  
  
Ruby Rose’s voice is very ordinary. It’s high, even childish. But it builds and builds into something horrid and almost feral. Gears whir and click in the background.  
  
“Cinder!”


	8. guilt

_Ruby Rose_

 

She’d hoped visiting Mom would make this feel… right, somehow.

Ruby curls up in the little nest of blankets she’s made for herself. It’s warm enough. The floor’s too hard, but at least the train sways the way her bed at Beacon used to wobble.

_Dad must be scared._

She bites at her lip a bit. Ruby’s trying not to think about leaving Dad – well, not alone, but he might as well be. Really, she’d be ok with _scared_. It’s better than what sis said happened to him after Mom died.

_I lied to him._

Not just a little lie, no. She’d let him spoil her rotten - breakfast in bed, board games at night, sparring out in the yard - for _weeks_. Weeks while she’d sent letters to Jaune and Ren and Nora, looking right in Dad’s eyes and lying right to his face about what she was planning.

Turns out she’s good at it, too. He never saw it coming.

_Cinder and Emerald were good liars too._

Ruby’s taken Crescent Rose apart twice already. Every inch of her workings is spotless. She’s sorted through everything in her packs. All her comics are ones she’s read three times over. She’s listened to half a dozen albums on her Scroll.

It’s not helping.

It’s weird. She _likes_ Ren and Nora. Jaune makes her laugh (less now; he doesn’t smile so much anymore, and sometimes when he does it makes her sad because it _doesn’t look right._ ) It isn’t that they’re not getting along. They are. When she can tell they’re flagging, Nora tells outrageous stories and Ren's the best straight man in the world and Jaune... well, she’s actually kind of impressed by how well he’s keeping it together.

They’re just… out of things to say right now?

She doesn’t know how to talk about things with them. Sometimes she wants to go home so badly, but then something in her head says _Ren and Nora have no home_ and _Jaune’s left home too_ and she’s ashamed of herself. But sometimes there’s this awful tight feeling in her guts, and it takes her too long to loosen up.

This is new, right? This is what hating someone feels like?

She never could hate the Grimm who killed Mom. They’re probably dead, so, you know, waste of effort. More importantly, what’s the point? They were just doing what Grimm do. Might as well get mad at the rain.

But when she thinks about Cin- there it is again, that awful twisty feeling, the hot headache – about the _people_ who broke her family…

Well, Ruby’s scared of what goes through her head.

_What am I doing?_

Ruby sits up. Her muscles pop like gunshots.

She peers around the train car’s dim interior. Ren and Nora are reading together in another corner, bundled up together with Nora’s arm draped over his chest.

There’s a weird fuzzy, fluttering feeling. _D’aww? Awkward? D’awkward?_ Ruby fidgets; this feels like peeking. Her cheeks burn a little as she turns away.

“Hey Ruby.”

She turns to meet his gaze. Jaune’s slumped against another stack of crates, one leg extended. Crocea Mors is balanced against the other knee. His lips twitch. It’s not much of a smile, but she appreciates the effort.

“Hey, Jaune.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“Nope.” She grimaces. “You?”

“Nah.” He shrugs and puts on a brave face. “Someone’s got to keep watch.”

“You gotta sleep eventually, Jaune.”

“I sleep. How’re you holding up?”

That is the most _obvious_ deflection in the world. Her eyes narrow, but burn at the corners. She fidgets again and sucks in a calming breath.

“I’m fine,” she lies.

“No, Ruby,” he says, and folds his arms across his chest. “You’re not. Talk to me.”

“About what?” she snaps. Ruby flinches. _Why am I so prickly?_ “Why are we talking about me, Jaune? You-“ _–asked me to save Pyrrha, and I wasn’t fast enough, I’m **never** fast enough-_

“Ruby, it’s ok.”

 _No, it’s not_. She sniffles, wipes at her eyes. “I shouldn’t be so angry.”

“I’m angry too.”

“I know.” God and dust, she knows. Sometimes Jaune just goes _quiet_ , and then he’ll snarl and lash out at the nearest inanimate object. It’s not what she’d expected from him.

“It’s ok to be angry, Ruby. You don’t have to stay strong for me.”

“Hey, team leader, right?” She sniffles again. “Not allowed to mess up.” _Again_.

“I think you’re doing great.” Jaune puts his hand on hers. “You just – you don’t need to hide it, you know? You can talk to me. Team leader to team leader. I’ll listen.” His eyes are wide, bloodshot, ringed by dark circles - but alert.

_What do I tell him?_

She doesn’t want to lie to her friends. It’s not _right_. It won’t get her anywhere.

 _You’re just being scared_.

She means to say _Pyrrha_ , and it’s nice because it’s even true. Sometimes when she closes her eyes she can still see Pyrrha’s face, eyes wide and mouth gasping, choking on her last breaths. But what comes out is:

“Penny.”

Jaune flinches. _God and Dust, you blew it, Ruby. You blew it. It’s disloyal. Don’t make him think about Penny, don’t make him think you’re blaming Pyrrha, you’re not blaming Pyrrha-_

“N-no, I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry,” she tries to laugh it off, but it decays into hiccups _like Penny hiccupped when she lied_ _oh Dust you’re making it worse-_ her eyes are itching, _oh darn it, stop it already!_

“Ruby! It’s ok!”

Ruby blinks away tears and looks back up at Jaune. Her head hurts. She can’t stop sniffling and hiccupping and this is _embarrassing_ and she doesn’t know how to get it all out-

“I l-l-l-oved her, J-Jaune.”

She hadn’t _said_ it yet. Hadn’t even really dared to think it yet.

When she thinks _Penny_ , she doesn’t see Penny dead. The thing on the stadium floor wasn't Penny. It wasn't even a thing. Just a husk, a dead scrap of metal, not _alive_ , not even like Crescent Rose. Something broken, smashed to bits. She hadn’t _died_ , she was just… gone.

His eyes go wide and puzzled, and for just a second Ruby’s afraid Jaune’s going to say something _stupid_. Instead, his hand just drops on her shoulder again. “Can I?” She nods. His arms enfold her.

“I d-d-d-” the hiccups just won’t stop, “don’t know how. But I loved her.”

“You mean…” he cleared his throat. “Like… uh, like Yang and Blake?”

 _Yang_. That doesn’t help. Ruby giggle-sniffles. “Oh dust, Yang. She’d have joked about _battery operated_. Like I d-d-don’t know what that means.”

She’s not sure which of them starts laughing first. It wasn’t _that_ funny. She laughs and laughs until there’s no energy left for tears.

Ruby wipes her eyes and brushes away gunk and generally feels like a right mess. “I don’t know. I just – I don’t know. Maybe?

“I thought you and Weiss were-”

 _Oh dust, Weiss, that's another knot to unravel_.

“I said I didn’t know. Mom and Dad, Qrow and Dad, Yang and-” _Blake._ “You all seem to have it figured out. Would've been nice doing so with Penny."

 _Cinder_ _stole that from you too,_ hisses the little voice in her head.

Another pair of arms snakes around Ruby’s shoulders. They’re soft and strong and very gentle. And there’s a hand, awkwardly patting the top of her head. _Oh, darn it, they all heard me-_ but she’s at the center of a hug pile and really it’s kinda nice, kinda warm-

Ruby blushes deep red. "I didn't mean it _that_ way, guys-" she squeaks.

"What way?" Nora chirps. "Just looked like you needed a hug."

Her heart is hot in her chest, and for a moment Ruby feels like she could just _burst_ with love. Not Mom-and-Dad love, definitely not Jaune-and-Pyrrha love, but Ren-Nora-Jaune-Ruby love is nice too.

They nestle there together for a while. It's Ren who clears his throat and draws back first, and one by one her friends give her some space.

"I don't feel like sleeping," Ren says. "Cards, anyone?" He produces a deck from his sleeves in one swift flourish. A pink eye winks. "We still need to teach Ruby to bluff.

“Oh, _come on!_ ” Ruby squawks. “I’ll pick all of you dry.

“I’ve heard enough, Ruby Rose!” Nora puts her hands on her hips, plopping down next to her. Her grin turns feral. “Bring. It. _On_.”  
  
“Oh, it is _brought_.”

 

And for a while, she smiles, and forgets.

 

They’re half a dozen hands in when the door creaks open. Footsteps chime on metal and the evil little voice in Ruby’s head drawls: “Now, now. Don’t…” She can’t make out the rest, because the world trails off and goes fuzzy.

Her head.

Oh, _dust_ , her **head**.

It’s like somebody else has tugged her to her feet. Her head is blazing. Her guts are twisted in on themselves and her hands curl into fists and her muscles have all gone taut. But it’s all _happening_ to her, it’s not something she’s _doing_ , because there’s no _her_ right now, no Ruby, just the whirling pounding heat screaming _Penny Pyrrha Yang all those people you- you- you took them from us and I’m going to-_

The headache sharpens. Ruby’s world goes _white_ for one shocking instant.

When it clears, things seem too blurry. The intruder stumbles back, hands in front of her face, cowering, but there's nothing but _rage_ in Ruby right now.

Crescent Rose is cold and comforting in her hands. Ruby’s finger ghosts along her mechanism. Her scythe _clicks_ and unwinds, singing.

 _I’m going to kill you_.

“ **CINDER!”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruby is ridiculously difficult to write. Even moreso when she's upset.


	9. tears

_The Fall Maiden  
_

 

Rose’s first strike nearly cuts her in half.  
  
She can’t see. Feel alone tells her a blade is sweeping in. _Bend forward, duck low._ No time to arm herself. Cold steel passes by overhead. Her hands leave molten prints in the floor; flames trail behind her as she whirls and kicks.  
  
Rose hops back. _White_ flares in the corners of her eyes. Cinder feels something twist and flinch away in her guts from – _get it away, get it away- **NO**. Face it. Best it. Kill it._  
  
They trade blows, fiery hand to scythe blade. She can’t let the others join in – with every spinning strike she hurls sheets of flame in every direction. No space to maneuver in here. _Keep her on the backstep_.  
  
She’d think Rose would be… predictable. Careful, telegraphed, a problem of reach. She’d fought that way in the Festival, favored sweeps and horizontal crescents.  
  
So it comes as a complete surprise when Ruby Rose’s scythe spins through three diagonal arcs to throw her arms wide, hooks her by the back of the neck –  
  
_No, no, no-_  
  
Cinder folds forward, feeling the blade drag along skin and aura, and the ripping yank that would have torn her head from her shoulders merely slams her face-first into the floor.  
  
Her world explodes into sparks and haze. Everything goes _fuzzy_ again. The ringing builds in her ears, ash- and bile-tastes mix. No, she can’t be weak, get it together-  
  
She rolls without thinking and something _bites_ through where her skull would have been with a shriek of punctured steel. _Focus, focus, you can do this-_ the blade slams down again, but she claps her hands together and traps Rose’s blade between her palms.  
  
Rose just _smiles_. And shoots.  
  
The first bullet slams into Cinder’s sternum like an oncoming train. The second is an avalanche. The third – Fall flares from her eyes, and the bullet melts and flashes to sparks inches from her heart.  
  
_Don’t **touch** me_.  
  
She clenches up, reaches down into herself and turns Fall loose. The world explodes.  
  
Rose screams, and the scythe is suddenly no longer between Cinder’s hands. _White_ flares back in reply – something twists in Cinder’s guts, and the flames pouring from her hands bank low.No, no, not again-  
  
“CINDER!” Emerald’s voice.  
  
Rose stumbles – flailing out for just a moment at something that isn’t there. It’s enough. Cinder grabs for something, anything – her hands close on steel. The scythe’s haft. _Got you_!  
  
Reaching for Rose, she grabs the little brat’s wrist and burns a flaming sword into her other hand, ready to drive it through those horrid silver eyes-  
  
**- _don't you_ dare-**  
  
Something slams into the back of her knee.  
  
Cinder topples, catches herself on her palm and twists again, spinning another kick. _Behind me!_ A boy in green leaps over her leg and chops down with bladed pistols, spraying bullets that patter all over Fall’s shield like falling rain. Their weapons connect again and again, steel chiming on glass.  
  
He’s fast. Strong, flowing like wind between her blows, soft and nearly silent.  
  
_Not good enough_.  
  
She kicks a curtain of flame his way that hurls him into the wall. He hits the corrugated steel with a dull cry of pain and catches himself on his knees. There’s a scream to her left – a ginger-haired girl is swinging a warhammer the size of Cinder’s head in whirling arcs. _No room for her to maneuver,_ _step in, take her leg…_  
  
Another line of fiery pain carves through her back. Cinder screams her fury and twirls around again. They’re all around her, hounding her like wolves. Rose’s still stumbling back – she comes face to face with the blonde boy, the incompetent from the vault, jaw set and yelling as he chops at her.  
  
His strokes are… strangely familiar. She sidesteps the first diagonal hack, sees the horizontal sweep coming. He's clumsy. Predictable. _Drop him. Make them protect him._ Cinder ducks under the next attack and stabs out with the tip at the blonde boy -  
  
Sword and shield connect. Her weapon shatters in her hand.  
  
_-what?!_  
  
That’s never happened before.  
  
“NORA!” the boy yells.  
  
And then something explodes in her face.  
  
  
  
When her head clears, there’s metal pressing against her cheek and a ringing in her ears.  
  
“Cinder!” The voice warbles in her ears. “CINDER!”  
  
She pushes herself up from the carriage deck and coughs out smoke. Blood runs in little dribbles from her nose. Her skirts are scorched black here and there, still burning; she pats them out without thinking.  
  
A callused brown hand settles onto her shoulders. “Cinder, talk to me! Who is it?”  
  
_Not my name_ -  
  
She’s slipping. She can feel it.  
  
“Let go of me!”  
  
She pushes herself off the deck. The world sways crazily. She doubles over and vomits over the side of the train. It’s black in the wavering firelight.  
  
Right. The train’s on fire.  
  
_Oh, hell. The Dust._  
  
“-where’s Professor Ozpin?” Her voice sounds leaden.  
  
“He was right- oh, _shit!_ ” Emerald blanches. _“_ Gone. He must have bolted-“  
  
“Stop talking and find him, Emmy!” She wants to wipe the grin off Mercury’s face, it’s filthy.  
  
Curtains of smoke and snow part, and for a second Cinder sees N- the girl with ginger hair loading another shell, and the boy- the boy-  
  
- _Jaune, Jaune Arc,_ the thoughts are splitting her head apart from the inside - _you know his name, say his **name**._  
  
_If I say his name, I can’t-_  
  
-he’s in arm’s reach now, screaming like a damned thing, sword held high; Rose is a blur flying at her with scythe sweeping at head height.  
  
_-I don’t want to die again_.  
  
Something _snaps_ and hums in her head. _Weapons, I need weapons, I need my weapons, where are they-_  
  
Jaune and Ruby’s blades crash into a shield of solid glass. Crescent Rose scrapes along the front, stopping just inches from wide yellow eyes.  
  
Pyrrha responds instinctively. She shoves away with all her strength, tossing Ruby back. An obsidian sword flashes into her hand in sections, first curved and then properly leaf-shaped. Heat flows along her legs and left arm as matching greaves and bracers form along her limbs.  
  
There’s a moment of horrible silence as Ruby and Jaune stare at her.  
  
“Ru-” she tries, but her tongue ties on itself, her voice is wrong…  
  
“ **MURDERER!”**  
  
_Burn in **hell**_ , _Cinder_.  
  
Pyrrha raises the parodies of her sword and shield, because there’s no choice at all.  
  
Things _click_ into place.  
  
“I won’t let you!” she hears Emerald shrieking, and the clash of steel on steel. Sees Mercury blast overhead with one springing shot from his legs, landing on the carriage face to face with Ren, but there’s no time to focus on that now. Ruby and Jaune mean to kill her.  
  
_Catch Ruby high, brace left arm to counter the blast-swing. Stab twice to abdomen. Kick her back into Jaune._  
  
Step.  
  
Ruby’s strike bounces off her shield. She folds with the recoil-strike, bends low, and – yes, there’s Jaune, swinging chops at her head. A push and Ruby’s flying back, right into faux-Milo’s arc.  
  
Jaune now. Pyrrha feels their shields connect. Flicks her fingers where a trigger ought to be – not-Milo stiffens and stabs out, jabbed just below his breastplace. He doubles over gasping for breath. A kick with a flare of polarity and he’s on his back- he’ll have to roll – she’ll block- and there’s Ruby again, firing bullets that ripple pain out from not-Akuo all along her shoulder.  
  
The flames spread all around them. Explosions rock cars further down the train. There are clashes of steel on steel, cries of pain, Nora’s harsh, angry laughter, but she can’t focus on any of that now, not with Ruby and Jaune about to slaughter her.  
  
_Can’t disarm. Can’t incapacitate. Can’t knock out, aura drain won’t stop them._  
  
Pyrrha feels the possibilities contract.  
  
Sees parry breed counter, counter breed riposte, attacks spooling out from their origins and splintering off as windows narrow and reactions slow and tempers boil over.  
  
She’s never had to _think_ about what to do in a fight like this. Options simply present themselves. Milo slides into the gaps in the rhythm, finds openings, shrinks back from feints. It’s automatic, like breathing.  
  
Battle is like the current. Dragging her back, again and again, whirling towards the two fatal strokes she knows will end this.  
  
She takes hits. Her friends are _magnificent_. Ruby’s a flying blender and Jaune is steady on his feet. Bullets crash into her shield – she can feel Fall blaze in her core, but doesn’t dare touch it – and patter off her aura.  
  
Funny time to be proud of her friends when she’s scared out of her wits.  
  
A sweep dumps Ruby on her back – she’s too aggressive, she isn’t thinking clearly, or maybe there’s not enough room. Jaune is already groaning on the floor. Her friend’s exposed, neck bared, a pull on her arm-  
  
_Jaune. Ruby. Stop it. Stay down. Don’t make me do this-_  
  
Pyrrha flinches back from the thought.  
  
“You **took** her from us!” Jaune snarls, and thrusts at her eyes.  
  
She leaps back and the countdown starts again.  
  
Punish Jaune’s thrust. Kick his shield wide – stab twice, no, no, don’t do that- she stumbles back and grits her teeth. Ruby’s back up again, Crescent Rose barking, cooking off more canisters of Dust.  
  
And then she hears Ren scream.  
  
She sees it in flickers between Ruby’s strikes –Mercury looming overhead. Ren bloody and half-senseless, hands raised in a pointless defense. Nora crawling on her hands and knees towards them…  
  
Mercury’s foot rises above Ren’s head…  
  
_No, no, no!_  
  
Pyrrha screams and grabs for something - anything. Force surges from her hands, ripples out. The train’s cars _bow_ and buckle beneath her feet, bucking like an unruly horse. Waves of humming black smash Mercury to the train floor.  
  
Metal shrieks. The train’s wheels jump the tracks beneath them. Dust canisters slam into each other and burst into flame.  
  
She reaches in deeper and feels more power than she's ever had before bubbling at her fingertips. Hurls it at every living thing she can see through a haze of black, willing them _away_. She sees bodies fly, limbs flailing and eyes wide. Sees pieces of the train tear loose from their foundations, feels the car beneath them snap free from the rest of the train ahead - _crew quarters, keep it away from the crew quarters-_  
  
Pyrrha sees the explosion blossom in red and yellow and violet, a flower of flame and shrapnel.  
  
Feels the pressure wave pick her up like a child.  
  
Hears screams, and then nothing at all.


	10. hunger

_Emerald Sustrai_

 

It’s howling that wakes her up.  
  
_-they’ve got dogs, get up, run run run-_  
  
Emerald’s eyelids flutter. It’s dark around her, all harsh red light and flickering shadows, snowflakes hissing as they drift to earth. She’s sprawled in a tangled heap in powdery snow. Whisper’s half-buried a few inches from her hand, and Flash – she cranes her neck, finds his sleek crescent blade bloodied and half-buried in a mass of wreckage.  
  
Everything hurts. Head, arms, legs, ribs – all telling her not to move too fast just yet. Breathing deep sends stabbing aches through her chest.  
  
_My hands!_ Legs will heal, but pickpockets live or die by their fingers. She lifts them up and stares at them in the wavering half-light. _Don’t be broken, don’t be broken- wiggle the fingers-_ her yelps of pain stutter into a relieved laugh when they all seem to bend the right way.  
  
_Where am I?_  
  
Wreckage surrounds her – bits of broken steel, a tumbled railway car that’s snapped in half, punctured drums leaking Dust to mix with the snow. Little flames blaze here and there; it reeks of smoke and burning Dust and heated metal. Others rise further off among the trees. A steady cold wind rakes her skin.  
  
Her thoughts feel all syrupy inside her head. The memories are blurry. She remembers – Cinder holding off Ruby _and_ her simpering suck-ups. Cinder sprawled on the carriage in front of her. Chasing Ozpin – and at that thought her chest twinges unpleasantly all over. The explosion…  
  
Mercury.  
  
_Cinder._  
  
She’s alone. No food. No shelter. No proper clothes. Alone in the woods with Grimm circling. No city to run to – too much to hope for that Ozpin’s cronies only thought she died when Beacon fell.  
  
Alone again.  
  
Her breathing quickens. Emerald curls inward, hands on her elbows. Treacherous muscles twitch in her shoulders, and not from cold.  
  
_They might be dead._  
  
Her fingers clench tight.  
  
No, they won’t be dead. Cinder Fall does not die from something as _stupid_ as a chance encounter with a bunch of vengeful Huntsman and Huntress wannabes. Emerald refuses to believe that.  
  
Ozpin – forget him for now. Mercury can take care of himself, he’ll find her. Cinder. Find Cinder. She’ll know what to do.  
  
Emerald gets up. Her feet sink deep into the snow. There’s a tight pull in her left calf as she extends her leg. Takes her a moment to realize she’s bleeding - a slow dark trickle from a clotting wound.  
  
Flash must have done it. Not the blade’s fault. It missed anything significant.  
  
_I can still walk. I’m not afraid._ She grits her teeth. _Cinder. Have to find Cinder_.  
  
She could be anywhere. The wreckage – there’s fire here, cover from the wind, a place to hide. She’s slept in worse. It’ll do for shelter.  
  
Emerald bends down carefully and picks up Whisper. He’s battered and needs sharpening, but trustworthy. She cracks open his chamber (nothing broken) and tests the chains. Flash is next, after a few limping steps towards him.  
  
“Just us three again,” she says. “C’mon.”  
  
_She could be hurt._  
  
It doesn’t matter they’re miles and miles from proper civilization. Cinder’s strong. She’ll manage – Emerald just has to get to her.  
  
The snow’s nearly up to her thighs. _Probably why I’m still alive_. She takes a few hopping steps. The cut throbs in protest and Emerald bites her tongue to keep from yelping. It’ll hurt to run. Big deal. She can do this.  
  
_Hold on, Cinder. I’m coming_.  
  
The snow crunches and shuffles beneath her feet. She keeps Whisper and Flash out in both hands, turning to sweep the trees every so often. Too many shadows for things to hide in. Too many _noises_.  
  
_Great outdoors my ass_. _Hate the country_.  
  
And predictably, there are the growls, the _crunch_ of paws in snow. Emerald blows the first Beowulf’s brains out the back of its skull the second she spots red-orange eyes.  
  
Others swarm out of the dark, baying like dogs. Reflected firelight gleams on their masks and claws like spilled blood.  
  
It’s an ugly little fight. Her wings are clipped – she can’t hop around the way she usually does with one leg still leaking. Aura’s low, so she has to be careful. But these are just Beowulves and they’re in her way.  
  
And she hasn’t forgotten Beacon. No tears for the Grimm.  
  
Really, she enjoys it more than she should. It’s _good_ to be killing the filthy things again, no matter what She – Emerald doesn’t even dare think the name, because the memory makes her nauseous – thinks or says.  
  
She doesn’t realize the last Grimm is dead until it starts disintegrating beneath her. It’s a mangled heap of shredded meat and fur. Black ichor is spattered all over her face.  
  
_Cool it, Emmy_. God, now she’s hearing Mercury too. _Don’t get sentimental. You know what you were getting into_.  
  
No, stop that line of thinking **right** there. Stop thinking about Beacon. Stop thinking about smug, pampered little rich kids. Stop thinking about mangled corpses and screaming teenagers. They wouldn’t have lasted days out here in the world.  
  
They’d have lasted days longer if they hadn’t led the Grimm to Beacon.  
  
Emerald tastes bile.  
  
_Find Cinder._  
  
There’s another huddled clump of burning debris sticking out of the snow, chunks torn out of the nearby trees’ branches. Nothing there but a set of unsteady footprints staggering away. They’re boots – could be Mercury’s, could be Ozpin’s…  
  
But they’re not Cinder’s.  
  
Her chest hurts. She’s getting _hungry_ ; the old gnawing hunger that feels like it’s chewing away inside her guts. She knows it doesn’t matter how much she eats; that hunger won’t go away.  
  
It’s half an hour later when she spots a tumbled form sprawled in the snow among shattered bits of broken black glass. Long legs, tousled black hair…  
  
Emerald doesn’t remember the interim. She’s just _there_ suddenly on her hands and knees, digging frantically through the powder and pulling at Cinder’s legs. Her idol is barely moving. Scrapes and cuts mar the pale smooth skin; her dress’ silk is scorched and torn.  
  
_Oh Dust, what have they done to you?_  
  
Emerald brushes back sweat-slick, iced hair. She reaches out, expecting a rebuke – but no, Cinder’s not moving. There’s only a little puff of hot breath from Cinder’s lips. That’s bad, but what _really_ has her worried is how… cool Cinder’s skin is.  
  
For the first time in nearly a year, Cinder isn’t fever-hot to the touch.  
  
Emerald bites her lip. She doesn’t know much of… whatever it is Cinder knows. But she’s not stupid. Heat means Maiden’s mantle. The Maiden’s mantle shouldn’t be leaving Cinder - unless she’s dying.  
  
“Don’t you _dare_!”  
  
None of those cuts look anywhere near deadly, but Emerald’s seen small cuts kill. There doesn’t seem to be enough blood…  
  
Cinder Fall will not die of something as _stupid_ as this.  
  
It has to be exhaustion.  
  
_Gotta get her to someplace warm. Treat her. Keep her safe_.  
  
This is going to hurt.  
  
Emerald sucks in a deep breath and carefully gathers Cinder into her arms. Her idol feels… too light. No response. _Here we go._ She closes her eyes and tries to stand. It feels like a knife in her calf. Her knee wobbles, nearly buckling.  
  
_No, I need to be strong_.  
  
Her teeth grinding, Emerald locks her wounded leg in place, snarls to keep from screaming, and stumbles to her feet. Another painful jerk rips through her as she sluggishly throws Cinder back over her shoulder – she nearly collapses, catching herself on her free hand. Her heartbeat pounds in her ears.  
  
“Hold on tight, Cinder.”  
  
She turns around and takes a few limping steps away from the wreckage. Wouldn’t you know it, her footsteps have already vanished.  
  
More Grimm howl in the distance.  
  
_Get back to shelter._  
  
Emerald’s dreamed about something like this. Twice in the last few weeks she’s had to carry Cinder to safety. Twice from Grimm at their heels, even – Cinder’s never taught her how she keeps the Grimm leashed. Somebody must be having a laugh.  
  
“I’ll take care of you. Just stay with me.”  
  
She’s gone numb by now. The wind’s picking up, and the snow is flurrying in thicker sheets. But it’s _quiet_. Just crackling flames, snow chuffing beneath her shoes, distant Grimm.  
  
Emerald hasn’t felt this alone in a long time.  
  
It’s as still and quiet as ever when she makes it to the ruined car. The fires show no sign of going out any time soon. Emerald’s guts twist anxiously at the thought of the fires spreading, but she doesn’t have a choice. She needs shelter.  
  
“Here we are.”  
  
Lowering Cinder to the snow hurts even more than picking her up. She’s going to tear something at this rate. Cinder groans as her head brushes the snow.  
  
Emerald’s on her knees at once, reaching out. “Shh,” she coaxes. “It’s alright. I’m here. We’re safe.” She licks her lips. “I’ll take care of you, Cinder. Rest.”  
  
Cinder’s voice is a raspy croak, harsh with smoke. “Where are we?”  
  
“I don’t know.” Emerald puts a hand on Cinder’s shoulder. A guilty thrill runs through her at the touch of skin on skin. “Somewhere in the woods, I think-“  
  
Cinder’s hand closes on her wrist and squeezes tight. She feels bones grate beneath the skin.  
  
_Stupid. Stupid! You never touch her if she doesn’t offer, you don’t deserve to touch her-_  
  
“Cinder?” She tries to keep her voice from quivering. “It’s – it’s just me-“  
  
“I know who you are.”  
  
There’s something _wrong_ about Cinder’s voice. Emerald’s heart pounds against her ribs, but no, don’t jerk away, stay composed. She has to accept whatever punishment is coming. She’s earned it. _Don’t forget my place. Never again_.  
  
Something is wrong.  
  
Emerald’s heart is trying to break out. She’s waiting for a blow, a burn, _something_ – but Cinder just sits there, eyes closed. There’s tension in every muscle.  
  
“Cinder?” Emerald repeats quietly.  
  
Her idol’s lips twist and split like a tearing wound. She sits up and leans in close. Her eyes open-  
  
_-what’s wrong with her **eyes**?_  
  
There’s as much green as yellow there.  
  
Emerald jerks back, tearing free of the grip on her wrist – and Cinder follows, grinning like a corpse. And now Emerald can see the _wrong_ in every movement, the same _wrong_ she’d seen before with sword and shield. Her captor’s voice – she’s not Cinder, she can’t be Cinder, she's just _wearing_ Cinder - is sing-song as a hand closes on Emerald’s throat.  
  
“Hello again!”  
  
Something _hums_. Metal shrieks and tears from the side of the side of the wreckage in a long sharp strip that flies into Cinder's free hand.  
  
_Oh God._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I thought Ruby was hard, Emerald is harder - we have so little dialogue or pov sections from her!


	11. soiled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for violence here, folks. This is one reason I've taken so long to write it.

_Pyrrha Nikos_

 

There’s a fire in her veins.  
  
Pyrrha’s stolen skin practically throbs. Her muscles are corded iron and her heart is a roaring volcano. Emerald’s pulse _thumps_ through her slim neck and courses up Pyrrha’s forearm.  
  
It is the most real thing she’s felt in days.  
  
Someone’s screaming in the back of her head.  
  
“I have had,” she says aloud, “a _very_ bad few days, Emerald. What about you?”  
  
“Pleas-” She can _feel_ the words rasp through Emerald’s windpipe.  
  
“Oh, you want to say _please_?”  
  
Metal bites into Pyrrha’s palm – no, not her palms. _Cinder’s_ palms. It’s _Cinder’s_ skin dripping blood,  _Cinder’s_ fingers clamped on Emerald’s neck. Pyrrha isn't here.  
  
_This is not me_.  
  
Something about that feels…  
  
_Penny is lying in pieces and her heart is collapsing. You did it, you did it, everyone knows, everyone saw - coward, failure, loser, **murderer,**_ _selfish, so selfish, you wanted to win a stupid tournament and now she’s **dead** -_  
  
The thoughts chatter and gnaw and bite at the hesitation until there’s nothing left but _fire_.  
  
“Did you even think she was _real_ , Emerald?”  
  
“Cinder-!”  
  
_-isn’t here right now_.  
  
Pyrrha lifts Emerald and slams her into the snow as hard as she can. She hears metal _clang_. Emerald shrieks and jerks upright, coughing, clutching at her neck. She gropes for one of her scythes and rakes out wildly, but a flick of Pyrrha’s wrist disarms Cinder’s thief, her weapon spinning off into the snow.  
  
_Not much good without **others** to kill for you, are you?_  
  
“I think I’m going to kill you.” For the first time Cinder’s voice feels _right_ coming from between her lips.  
  
“You’re _dead_!”  
  
“Yes.” Pyrrha’s grip tightens on her improvised blade. She feels wetness dribble down her arm. Droplets splatter on Emerald’s cheeks and forehead.  
  
_Not good enough yet_. The thought is oily between her temples. She tosses the blade away and balls her fists. _Come on, fight back-_  
  
But she doesn’t. Emerald’s eyes are almost all pupil. She raises her hands. “Cinder,” she gasps. “Cinder. Help. Help me. Snap out of it. Cinder please, please, _please-_ ”  
  
Someone starts screaming. It could be Emerald. It could be the little hot voice in the back of Pyrrha’s head. It could be Pyrrha. She doesn’t know.  
  
The world goes red and - _oily_. Skittering fills her mind.  
  
**Nikos, don’t you dare-**  
  
Aura sparks beneath her knuckles for a while. Then – she doesn’t know how long it takes – there’s a splintering sensation. Fists start thudding into skin. Chest, upraised forearms, gut, face – doesn’t matter where, just that Emerald feels it.  
  
**Stop it, Nikos!**  
  
She can’t. Her fists have their own rhythm now.  
  
Every inch of her skin crawls at each thudding impact. But the _skittering_ …  
  
_-screaming teens running, Grimm howling-_  
  
Emerald never fights back. Not when her aura shatters. Not when skin bruises or aura-healing cuts reopen. Not when her blood’s dripping from Pyrrha’s fists, lip split, red eyes ringed with ugly dark circles.  
  
She’s sobbing, gasping for breath, and still she hasn’t fought back.  
  
_Why didn’t you just kill her?_  
  
_That’s enough_ , Pyrrha thinks. There’s bile in her throat and something _foul_ in her mouth. She feels  _soiled_ to the very soul, sick. Emerald deserves to be punished, but not… like this. _That’s enough. I have to stop_.  
  
She falls back from the prone girl. _Breathing exercises. Find your center. Focus. Then..._  
  
Her fingers _close on the improvised sword anyways_.  
  
_Stop it, stop **it** , **stop it** -_  
  
“Miss **_Nikos_**!” Ozpin’s voice snaps through the air like a gunshot.  
  
She doesn’t turn around. She’s not sure she _can_. The skittering in her brain and the fire in her veins won’t let her. She trembles – _let go, let go, let go, why **can’t we let go** – _  
  
_-this is what she deserves_ , hisses the skittering thought.  
  
“Miss Nikos,” Ozpin repeats from closer still. She can feel him behind her. “She’s helpless. It's murder."  
  
“Cin…” Emerald gasps, eyes blackened. She’s shaking. “I won’t- I won’t do it again- Cinder- _please_ …”  
  
“This isn’t you.” A hand closes on the hand holding the blade. Works gently at the fingers. “Miss Nikos. Miss Fall. You don't _want this._ Let _go_.”  
  
She wants – it feels like something is twisting inside her, stirring in its sleep.  
  
_What is wrong with me?_  
  
She’s not sure which of her lets go of the blade. It tumbles into the snow and vanishes with a _whump_.  
  
“Miss Nikos-”  
  
“Don’t touch me!”  
  
She shrugs his arm off her shoulder. The fire. Get away from the fire. She’s so _hot_. Blood rushes between her ears and fills her head with throbbing. Can’t think. Air. She needs air. She needs –  
  
What comes up is mixed with black, and this time she can’t pretend it’s just the firelight. It _stinks_ – rust and old blood, familiar smell _…_  
  
"God and Dust."  
  
Hands on her shoulders. All the nervous, feverish energy disintegrates at once. Her hands, her arms, her head - they all ache. Her head feels fit to burst. She smells – ash, and scorching flesh, and -  
  
Cinders.  
  
But her aura feels fresh and untouched.  
  
"Ozpin."  
  
Not "professor." She needs to be Cinder right now. Needs the calm. Pyrrha recedes without a fight. The horror goes numb in her chest.  
  
There's a change in the grip on her shoulders. A tension. "Miss Fall."  
  
"Will she live?"  
  
"Despite your best efforts, yes."  
  
"She doesn't die. Do you hear me?" She fumbles over her own tongue. "And you were right about my name."  
  
There's barely any time to marvel at the thought before she faints.


	12. broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to count the interludes as chapters in their own right from here on, indicating the narrator with italics at the top. Apologies for the delay.

_Mercury Black_

  
Mercury’s given up trying to stand.

He’s sprawled on his belly in the snow, halfway down a slope from the tracks. His clothes are soaked and his hands are numb. One of his eyes is swollen half-shut. He can feel something sticky on his face. He pulls himself along on his hands and carefully tries not to jostle his lower body too badly.

_Gotta get away._

There’s a long ugly scar of metal and mud gouged into the snow and smashing aside trees where the train came off its rails. Smoke rises in a thick plume.

He doesn’t even want to look at his legs. Can’t feel them much anyways, which tells him everything he needs to know. Now and then there’s a hot stabbing pain in his thighs as something jerks the wrong way.

Mostly he smells blood. Sometimes it’s rotgut.

 _You watching, old man_? His lips peel back from his teeth. _Some use your fancy legs were!_

That’s the worst bit. His arms aren’t broken. His ribs aren’t broken. He’s twitchy and his muscles have the sour ache of aura-sick; there’s a taste like salt and copper in his mouth. Cuts and bruises all over. His flesh and bone could take the crash, even if he wants to pass out for a week.

But Marcus’ fucking legs – metal, bolted to the bones, clever conduits for aura but _foreign_ – they jerked when something pounded him to the train deck. They didn’t quite bend with the rest of him. Something’s torn. Now he’s leaking everywhere.

Shelter. Right. No point looking for Cinder. Crippled out here is a death sentence. Crazy ought to be too but it helps if you can set just about everything on fucking _fire_.

Mercury props himself up on his elbows and pauses for breath. Tries to hold down whatever’s still left in his stomach.

Thank whatever cares for the snow. It's smoother going. But slower, too.

He’s leaving a trail any idiot could follow. May as well tie himself in a neat little bow and ask the Grimm to make it fast.

For a moment he wants to yell – just to get this idiocy over with. It strains against the roof of his mouth, bubbles up from his lungs – and nothing comes.

He keeps crawling.

_Shelter. Find shelter. Patch yourself up._

Another few dozen feet later and he's biting back every curse he knows. _I’ll kill ‘em. I’ll fucking kill ‘em before I go._ Hot tears sting his eyes. He reaches out as far as he can, muscles in his arms and back trembling. His hand closes on a slim bough, and that's enough for him to drag himself to the tree trunk.

Mercury's blowing hard as he pulls himself up. Gotta turn around, but his legs won't bear his weight. He tries to lift himself clear of the ground - he's strong enough - and twist around.

Something jostles his right leg.

He can't keep the scream back this time. The world whites out. Rotgut stink fills his nose.

_-rough hands on his shoulders, shoving him back onto the table. His legs feel…wrong, heavy. The straps – weak, just leather and buckles. His captor’s grip is unsteady. Yes, wait ‘til he’s gone, and he can-_

When Mercury comes back, he's lying in a heap of sprawled limbs with his back pressed to the tree. He can see his legs now.

Well, he’s seen worse.

 _Face it, Merc, you’re a dead man_.

Mercury sags back against the tree trunk. His head thumps on bark. “Shit,” he spits. “Shit.”

He might recover. Mostly looks like tissue damage. Blood loss might be an issue, but that’s long-term. He’s got a strong aura and enough fabric for rough bandages. The cold’ll help too. He might recover on his own, if he doesn’t get cooked by the fire or torn apart for a Beowulf’s chew toy.

Yeah, he might survive, if he lives out the night.

Grimm howl off in the distance. Mercury rolls his eyes. “Rub it in, why don’t you?”

It’s funny. He’s not scared. He’s just tired. Bone-tired. It’s like something’s broken in him. What’s the point?

Mercury settles back against the tree and closes his eyes.

He needs a breather.

 

Time passes. He doesn’t mind much.

Footsteps crunching in the snow tear him from dim, fuzzy dreams of Sirius. Mercury’s got half a mind not to move at all. It’s not like he can fight back much.

He looks up all the same. A patch of shadow trudges forward – upright, not on all fours. It’s holding something, long and sharp and angular. He sighs.

 _Figures_. _Fools’ luck_.

 “’Ello, Arc.”

Invincible Girl’s squeeze doesn’t look too great either. The kid’s face is cut and smoke-smudged. He’s favoring one leg, and there are dents all over his _quaint_ little cuirass. Blonde hair’s scorched and he’s got a nice black eye. But the antique blade he’s carrying in one hand is _infuriatingly_ intact.

Mercury waves. “Lived through that one too, I see,” he drawls.

“Mercury.” Arc’s eyes widen as he comes to a sudden stop in the snow. The boy looks a touch green around the gills. “Oh god, man, your _legs_ -”

“Aren’t they pretty?”

“Did Yang-“

“Blondie? Pft. She’s good, but not that good.” Mercury settles back against the trunk. “Long time ago, Arc. Don’t get all sentimental on me.”

“ _Sentimental?_ ” Arc’s nostrils flare and those sad blue eyes narrow. “Don’t worry about that. Ren and Nora. Where are they?”

“Oh, lost _another_ couple teammates? Not cut out for the leader gig, are we?”

Oh, it’s great to see Arc’s face go tight like that. Boy’s nearly as easy a mark as Emerald is. It’s the little things.

“I do not need this right now. You _lost_ , Mercury. God and Dust, try for some dignity.”

“Oh, you won? Could’ve fooled me.” Mercury spreads his arms wide. “All hail the conquering hero!”

Arc bends down. He narrows his eyes further and grits his teeth as he draws closer, until the two of them are arms’ length apart. Kid’s doing his best to be intimidating, but Mercury’s seen worse. Boy has a soft heart.

“I don’t have time for this. Where’s the rest of my team?”

 “I’d say you go take a look at all that.” He motions to the burning wreckage of the train and rolls his eyes. “Maybe you won’t need to scrape ‘em off.”

Arc’s teeth grind together. “You’re sick, you know that?”

 “Wouldn’t get your hopes up, though.” Mercury laughs. “Worked Prettyboy over good before-”

Arc hits him.

Boy’s got arms like noodles, but he has a decent swing.

Mercury’s world goes black at the edges. He spits and runs his tongue along his teeth. No cracks. There’s blood running from his nose. Arc is staring at his fist as if it doesn’t belong to him.

 “I- I didn’t-“

“That’s the spirit.” Mercury grins and tastes the blood dripping onto his lips. He pats his mangled stump and leans forward, lifting himself off the ground with as much strength as he’s got left. Arc recoils. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Steel kisses the nape of his neck. He can feel Arc’s hand shaking, little wobbles running up and down the metal.

“Oh, that’s precious. Never killed somebody?”

“I’m not like you!”

“Pft. I noticed.” Mercury’s fingers curl around the edge of the boy’s sword. He feels the tip tickle the skin. “C’mon. It’s not hard. Just a little _push_. I’ll make a bit of a mess, and that’ll be that.”

They stare at each other. He can feel Arc breathing. “I’m not like you,” he repeats.

_God spare me from heroes._

“You wanna know how Invincible Girl died, Arc?”

This one hits home. Arc flinches. “Shut up.” His voice goes thick. Mercury watches the muscles twitch, the eyes narrow, jaw clench and shoulders tense.

“On her _knees_.”

He hears the leather in Arc’s gloves creak. The sword stops wobbling.

The night is very still about them. Mercury closes his eyes. This has been a long time coming. He’s been waiting for it for years now. He’s ready. Just a few moments and he’ll be quit of this.

_I’m gonna kick the shit out of Marcus when I see him again._

They creep by and nothing happens. Mercury opens his eyes again.

Why is he _taking_ so long?

“For God’s sake, Jaune,” Mercury manages. It feels like someone else is talking. “Just-“ he swallows. “Just _do_ it. Get it over with.”

Arc’s eyes look like they’re carved from glass. The sword doesn’t move. For God’s sake, what is he _waiting_ for? There’s a little twitch of his head, back and forth.

 _No, no no no, no, don’t you_ dare-

He pulls his sword from Mercury’s neck and turns away.

 “Fucking _coward!_ ”

Arc doesn’t answer. The snow crunches beneath his boots as he climbs the hill.


	13. stranded

_Jaune Arc_

Mercury’s voice fades behind him.

He wants to do a lot of things. Scream until he’s hoarse. Sit down and cry. Run down the hill and knock out all of Mercury’s teeth. Cut his lying throat. His chest hurts and his eyes burn and he’s twisted up in every direction at once.

It’s really _hit_ him now that Ren and Nora might be dead.

Jaune shouldn’t have let them come.

 _Scrape them off_ , Mercury said. Jaune balls his fist. _Should’ve hit him again_.

God, his legs are shaking so bad he can barely stand. He drops down to his knees and spends a scary few minutes trying to get his breathing under control.

 _C’mon, Jaune, focus_.

He trudges up the hill and wracks his brains for silver linings. _Alright, it doesn’t look good, but Ruby’s tougher than you and she’s two years younger_. _Ren and Nora beat you every time in sparring class. But Ren’s- he’s always been kind of fragile, and Nora was crawling, and Ruby’s tiny and breakable and-_

_Great. Thanks, stupid brain._

Jaune kicks the nearest bit of wreckage with a _clang_.

The train’s a mess. Broken cars and bits of metal panels lie all over the place as far as he can see in the dark. And it’s on fire. Of _course_. Smells like burnt metal and Dust. He’s pretty sure fire isn’t supposed to be green either.

Jaune puts his hand over his mouth and squints against the glare.

No signs of Ren and Nora out in the open. No footprints, no scraps of clothing, no… bodies. _Thank God_ \- wait _._

Something moving in the dark. Clicking. Metal on plastic.

The Knight stumbles out of the shadows beneath the tracks: one foot snapped off, face plate locked down, blades extended. Jaune flinches – the bots aren’t pleasant sights since Beacon – but hey, maybe it’s just security. Security is _good_ out here.

He holds up a hand. “Hey! Listen, I, uh-” Aren’t they supposed to have comm. units in these things? “I know this looks bad, but uh-“

Well, he can’t really _blame_ the bot for trying to chop his head off.

Jaune used to feel bad about carrying a shield. No gun, not very stylish. But the nice thing about a shield is you don’t need to be _fast_ and you don’t need to be a good _shot_ , which is good ‘cause he’s neither. You just need to be steady. He brings up Crocea Mors and braces his arm. The bot’s hit makes his arm rattle – Knights are about as slow as he is, but they’re _strong_.

Predictable, too. Beacon was better than classes for knowing what to do. Easy enough to have some of it sink into his thick head.

_Shove with the shield. Duck the follow-up. Go for the waist – it’s thin._

Jaune swings. The Knight comes apart at the waist and its top half drops into the snow.. Until it starts crawling towards him.

 _Oh, right. Robot_. _Not dead_.

Well, a bit of wild flailing with his sword takes care of that.

Once the Knight’s a heap of twitching limbs, it’s no good for a distraction anymore. Great. Time to think this through again. Ruby unconscious. Ren and Nora– nowhere to be found. Angry robots. Hungry. Cold. Emerald and – his guts twist in knots at the name – Cinder somewhere out in the night.

Oh, and a dark enclosed place that’s _on fire_ his only lead. Figures.

He hears familiar yowls and barks from somewhere off in the darkness.

“Oh, _come on!_ ”

Jaune swallows hard, screws up his courage, and walks into the tumbled wreckage with shield held high.

It’s dark. Dark and hot – sweat starts pouring down his forehead and the back of his neck. His eyes sting from the smoke. He feels his way along in the half-light with his feet and sword, poking and prodding shapes to figure out what they are. What he wouldn’t give for some glasses, or a face mask.

 “Ren?” Jaune sucks in shallow breaths. “Nor-“

Someone’s screaming at the top of her lungs right next to his ear. Something _whooshes_. Jaune twists and tries to block but the hit knocks him right on his ass in the snow. Stronger than a Knight. Stronger than Cinder. Must be-

Nora’s backlit against the flames, a black tattered silhouette shaking his rage. She’s got Magnhild in motion again and _oh my god why does anyone use a weapon that big?_ It’ll go through his Aura like paper!

Jaune’s not _that_ stupid. He drops his sword at once and holds his shield up with both hands. Good thing. Shockwaves ripple through the steel and pound him deeper into the snow. He sputters for breath and tries to scrunch up as much of himself underneath as he can.

“Nora! Stop! It’s me! It’s me!”

He might as well be speaking old Mistrali. She raises the hammer over her head in both hands. Jaune’s seen what that does to Grimm.

“Nora…?”

He’s got time enough to flash through his life three times and kick himself for all his screw-ups before reality sinks in. Nora’s shoulders go slack. She lowers Magnhild and lets her hang loose by her side in one hand, then bends down.

“Jaune?”

Jaune’s too startled to reply. Nora’s temple has a bruise the size of his hand on it. There’s a nasty burn on one cheek, already healing. She doesn’t really look _here_ ; her eyes are- well, not really focusing? What did Professor Peach say about concussions and Aura again?

“Yeah, it’s me,” he manages at last. “Glad to see you too.”

Nora puts her hand to my face. “…I didn’t see you.” She blinks a few times, too fast. “Sorry. I think I hit my everything. Did I hurt you?”

“No, just my pride.”

She pulls him to his feet. _Oh, thank go-_

Right. Nora Hugs. _Nice_ , but awkward when you think you have cracked ribs. Jaune lets out a distinctly manly grunt of pain that is not at all a stuffed-animal squeak.

“…I’m glad you’re ok too,” he manages.

“Hush.” Her forehead bumps against his chest. She closes her eyes, breathes in deep. There are tears on her cheeks. “I thought you were dead.”

“You sure we aren’t?” Oh, great, now his eyes are teary too. Something’s gone all fluttery in the pit of his chest. “I fell off a _train_. _”_

“Well, you get used to it.”

She sounds so casual about it. Jaune can’t help it. He laughs and sobs until he’s sure he’s cracked another rib.

 

The last time Jaune saw Ren this bad was right after Beacon. And – God and Dust, how shitty is this? – his head was kind of crowded at the time. Pyr- losing _her_ had been bad. It didn’t leave much room to really take in new pain.

Now he sees.

God, he shouldn’t have let them come.

They’ve holed up in one of the more intact cars. He needed somewhere to keep Ruby when she wouldn’t wake up. It smells like potatoes – not pleasant – but he’s willing to ignore it for now. Heat’s obviously gone, but at least it’s mostly out of the wind, and there was more than enough wood outside to get a makeshift campfire together. With wreckage piled up in front of the door, it’ll do for shelter.

Nora’s done her best to make Ren comfortable on the trip to Jaune’s improvised camp. It’s still horrid. He’s too pale. Too small. He shakes. (Ren never shakes – he’s usually still and calm.) One arm hangs at an awful angle and the other one’s pressed to his side.

There’s enough drying blood on Ren’s face to wreck his little warm lip-twitch smile.

“That bad?” There’s never much emotion in his friend’s voice.

“What? No, no, you look good, man.” Jaune tries to signal Nora, who’s standing by the door to the broken car and weaving back and forth like the ground’s trying to shake her off. “Nora, doesn’t he look good?”

“What? Uh- yeah, you look great! _Sexy_. Very Spruce Willis. All bloody and battered – we just need a bunch of dead Grimm to pose you on.”

One black, bloody brow rises. “Really, guys?”

Jaune deflates. “…ok,” he admits, “you look awful.”

Ooh, that’s not a Good Stare from Nora.

“Good. I feel that way.” Ren laughs a hoarse little laugh. “Glad you’re ok.”

“I’ll manage.” Jaune shakes his head and tries to ignore the rumbling of his stomach. Maybe there _is_ food somewhere in here – he hasn’t really had the chance to search. If not…  “How can I help?”

Damnit, Jaune wishes he knew how to do whatever _she_ did to his aura in the forest. He’s supposed to have a lot of aura or something. Wouldn’t that help?

“Don’t suppose you found the other packs?”

“Not yet. I’ll keep looking.”

“Right. I’ll be here.” Ren looks over to the fourth person in the car. “How is she?”

Ruby’s sprawled in the corner in a mass of cloaks and blankets. Jaune’s done his best, but he’s not really sure what to do about _weird magical bullshit_ which is frankly becoming way too common a presence in his life. Seriously, what was with her _eyes_?

“Dunno.” He settles down on his haunches and puts a hand on Ruby’s forehead. She feels…weird. Feverish, but cold? Tingly? Like sticking your finger on a battery. “You ever seen her do that weird flash thing?”

“No. Just the roses.” Ren sucks in a deep breath. Talking’s probably painful. “Two Semblances?”

“I don’t think it’s a semblance.” Well, would he even know? “It doesn’t fit.”

“Fit?”

“I dunno. It doesn’t feel right? Doesn’t feel like…well, like her?”

“No, I guess not.”

“I mean, Ruby’s _fast_ , so of course she’s fast. She won’t shut up – she’s all bouncy all over the place. So yeah, fast. The rose thing – ok, obvious. White eye-flashes that feel all cold and burny? Where’s that fit in?” Jaune’s head hurts. “You ever heard of anything like that?”

“Not in real life.” Ren makes a face. “Except Schnees-“

“-who are _nonsense_.”

Nora turns away from the door. “Ren, stop talking. You need to rest.” She passes by him and settles down next to Ruby. One big pink hand brushes the other girl’s face. “She looks… tired.”

“She kinda scared me on the train.”

“Everything on the train was scary.” Nora rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, I know.” Jaune shivers. “It’s really coming down out there. I hope the cold isn’t-“

 _Oh,_ fuck _._

He’s on his feet in an instant, fast enough his head swims. Nora’s head snaps right to follow him. “What? Is something wrong?”

“I left Mercury out there.”

Silence.

“…You did _what_?” Nora blurts out.

“You saw _Mercury?_ ” Ren adds.

“When I was looking for you. He’s crippled. He can’t-” God, what was he _thinking_? What is _wrong_ with him? He remembers now. Remembers how much Mercury’s words had twisted him up inside.

“I have to go get him.”

“You have to do _what?”_

“He’ll freeze to death out there.”

“Good!”

“No, not good! He’s – it’s not right, Nora!”

“He tried to kill us!” Nora protests, and there’s something ugly in her eyes.

“I know, I know!” Jaune itches to get moving. The snow’s falling faster outside. “But I can’t – look, it’s different, ok? I can’t leave him out there to die! He might know something!”

“That’s not why you’re getting him.”

 _As if that weren’t completely obvious_. Jaune pushes their improvised door of debris aside and the cold hits him like a knife. “Just – take care of Ren and Ruby, ok? I’ll be right back!”

“If you _die_ because you’re saving Mercury, Jaune Arc, I swear I’ll – I’ll – don’t you do it, ok! I’ll do something really bad!”

 

He nearly can’t find Mercury again. Hell, he isn’t sure he knows where he _came_ from, forget where he’s going. Snow’s coming down harder and his footsteps are already filling in behind him.

Jaune rubs at his arms and kicks his footsteps deeper as he walks. Feels like he’ll never be warm again. _How does Weiss live in this?_ Thank God they’re not headed for Atlas.

There – that’s the tree. Halfway down the slope. That has no _business_ seeming so hard to cross. Ruby could do it in a minute or two if she worked at it. Jaune trudges down the hill as quickly as he dares and dreams of campfires and hot soup.

It seems to take him forever, and he doesn’t see anyone moving. Mercury’s a pale shape leaning against the tree. It’s hard well; for a second Jaune remembers the Grimm howls and wonders if he’s in over his head.

 _Bit late for that_.

He rolls his eyes. _Screw this_. Sucking in a deep, stinging breath, Jaune flicks open Crocea Mors, leaving his blade sheathed, and sits down on the shield face. “Well, here goes.”

He nearly crashes into Mercury, which would make the whole affair pointless. Stopping on a sled once you’ve got going is pretty damn hard. Jaune rolls off the shield face – _grab the rim, don’t lose it!_ – and hits the tree trunk with a grunt.

Pain sparks through him. He's running on dry as far as Aura goes.

_Ribs. Why is it always the ribs?_

Mercury’s motionless in a steadily growing snow pile. His skin is too pale, and snow’s started to clump on his hair and on his eyelashes. Jaune reaches out, suspecting the worst – there, a pulse in his wrist. Weak, but stubbornly there.

Oh, but now he wants to leave him. The twisty feeling is back.

 _“On her knees_.”

Jaune’s drawn Crocea Mors again before he even thinks about it. Something’s hot in his chest and it isn’t his ribs. He – oh, goddamnit, he really _does_ want to do it. Mercury’s neck practically _aches_ for him to cut it open.

_At least she was awake. At least she stood and fought. At least she-_

Tears cut down his cheeks and leave hot lines in numbing skin.

He ought to do it. Quick. Clean. (No, he ought to wake Mercury up first- god, no, what’s _wrong_ with him?) How dare he. How dare this cocky _thug_ talk about – her – like that?

 _Interrogation_. _He might have answers_.

 _Fuck that. You don’t want any of his answers_.

Jaune’s head hurts.

_Take him hostage._

_For what? He’s not worth anything. What’s there to negotiate? “If you want Mercury back, let us kill you a little bit?”_

Jaune bites down on his lip. Mercury’s exposed neck is still tugging at his sword. Little puffs of steam billow from his nose.

_He’d want it this way._

_Who cares?_ _So do you._

He swallows.

_No, I- I don’t. I can’t. I’m not a murderer._

 “Mercury.” He grabs hold. Shakes him. The other boy doesn’t move. “Mercury!”

Mercury mutters something he can’t make out.

“Goddamnit.” Jaune brushes snow off his legs and reaches around Mercury’s waist. The other boy’s heavier than he looks – those horrible metal legs, no doubt. He grunts and braces himself against the tree and lifts his enemy over his shoulder.

“If I freeze to death because of you,” he mutters, “I am going to look like _such_ an idiot.”

He climbs.


	14. alliances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After ten thousand years, it's time to renew this fic! Apologies for the delay!

_Cinder Fall_

_“You screamed, girl.” Red eyes narrow. “Again.”_

_“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”_

_“If you can’t take this-“_

_“I can! I can! Just- give me a second-”_

_“She’s useless to us, ma’am. I say you put her back where you found her.”_

_“No, no, let me try again-“_

_“There is **no** place for weakness in my circle, young Cinder. I’ve too much respect for you to coddle you.”_

Cinder opens her eyes and nearly breaks the hand on her shoulder.

“Grateful as ever, I see.” Ozpin’s rusty voice creaks in her ear. “Relax. I had all night to kill you; I doubt I will do so now.”

“Don’t touch me.” She grinds her teeth together and fire stirs sluggishly at her fingertips. The gray-topped blur doesn’t flinch.

“Ah, forgive me. I had forgotten my hands were deadly weapons.” Ozpin moves back a step, and Cinder lets go. “I assume I’m speaking to Cinder then?”

“You’re speaking to your _captor_.”

Ozpin rolls his eyes. “Thank you for reminding me, Miss Fall. I must have forgotten when I went out and retrieved what bedding and supplies could be salvaged.”

That would explain the sleeping bag loosely wrapped around her. Which means… Cinder glares at him. His expression, by contrast, is damnably mild.

“I believe the phrase you’re searching for is: ‘Thank you, Ozpin.’”

“ _Thank you_ , Ozpin.” She musters her sweetest, most poisonous tones. “I hope you know this changes nothing.”

“Of course.” He motions to the forest outside, half-blocked by piled debris. Snow falls in steady sheets and the trees fade into a dim white haze after a hundred paces. “We aren’t traveling for a day at least, not in this weather.”

Cinder sits up. She hurts all over and there’s still that awful taste in her mouth. The fire is still burning low and sullen in the center of the car. It stirs something in the pit of her chest. Memory wells up red and hot -

_Emerald._

Cinder's knuckles hurt.

She leans back against the cold metal wall and keeps her eyes on Ozpin. "How is she?"

"I'm here, Cinder."

The dull croak is not Emerald’s proper voice. Cinder follows the sound and takes her thief’s measure.

Her thief is tucked into a sleeping bag, so there's not much to see. Purple bruises mottle her face. There’s a little bit of dried blood beneath Emerald’s nostrils. Her eyes are wide, bloodshot. She flinches as their eyes meet and… curls in on herself like a spider, shoulders slack and face tense.

Something _burns_ in Cinder’s guts.

She starts to say something, but the words are getting stuck in her throat. “ _Are you hurt?”_ is a stupid waste of breath. _Take control of the situation or you'll lose her_. _Delicacy. She’s wavering. He’ll take her away from you._

"It wasn't me, Emerald." Cinder's voice cracks a little, to her surprise. Her _hands_ are shaking. Control. She’d lost control. She _can’t_ lose control. "I wouldn't do that to you.”

Emerald doesn't say anything for far too long. She rubs at her neck and the minutes tick away. Then: "I know.” Her thief closes her eyes and tries to smile. “I was – it’s nothing. Is she still there?”

 _Nikos?_ Cinder closes her eyes and concentrates – there’s a strange _humming_ feeling in the back of her brain, something tight and black, curled up and hiding. Even a moment’s brush up against Nikos’ thoughts makes her feel woozy and makes her heart jump. Her world seems to _crack_ – she pulls away at once, sucking in long hot breaths and clutching at Fall to steady herself.

 “I think so.” There’s little point in lying any longer. Cinder swallows. This is a strange enemy. One she can’t break. And yet…

“Where’s Mercury?”

“Gone.” Emerald’s voice is still dull. “I couldn’t find him.”

Something catches in Cinder’s throat.

She’s never sure what she feels about Mercury. But the boy was – useful, and loyal enough, and brave enough to take a hit and– funny, when he wasn’t in a perverse mood – and she’d taken him in which meant he was _hers_ and she needed to _keep_ him.

 _Sentiment_ , a thought mutters in her head. _He was a thug and he served his purpose_.

 _He was mine_ , she snaps back. _Emerald’s wavering_.

“Mercury is tough.” Cinder tries to put a bit of the old honey into her voice. “He won’t give up that easy. We’ll find him. As soon as the storm lifts, we’ll start looking, and we don’t leave until we’ve found him. Ozpin.”

“I thought you would never ask for me.” Beacon’s headmaster looks away from the fire. There’s a tin mug in each of his hands, filled with dark, steaming broth that smells like beef. Cinder’s stomach growls. “Not proper fare but better than nothing, I think.”

She takes the mug from him and half-lifts it to her lips. Then she stops and stares at Ozpin with lidded eyes.

“This is ridiculous.” Ozpin leans forward and folds his arms. “I suppose you think I’ve poisoned it?”

“It would be sensible of you.”

Ozpin rubs at the bridge of his nose and sighs. Weary years hiss on his breath. “Shall we be honest with each other?”

“Why not? Let’s try it for novelty’s sake.”

“Don’t think I’m being kind, Miss Fall." Ozpin's voice is cold and flat. "I helped you because our survival takes precedent over you burning everything you touch. That’s all.”

"Really?" She sneers at him. "Self-preservation? I’m delivering you to Salem, Ozpin.”

His lips twitch. "Dying in the wilderness is such a better option? Haven't you made alliance based on less?"

She has at that. _Nikos_. He’s obviously concerned about Nikos. Ridiculous, but… “And what do I get out of this…alliance?”

“Answers – educated guesses, at least.” Ozpin presses his palms together. "You need those with your mistress breathing down your neck, don’t you? How long do you think you can hide Miss Nikos’ presence?”

Cinder glares daggers at him.

"Not long."

"And you know better than to appeal to her better nature. You're a _liability_ now Miss Fall-" He pauses. "Oh. Yes. Would you prefer another name?"

_Another name..._

_"I'll only credit serendipity so far."_

Right, she'd... " _You were right about my name."_ Cinder stops breathing as the full memory hits. He’d been right. Damn him, he’d been right. Now he knew and-

**-and you didn’t.**

_Yes I did!_ She snarls the thought back. It’s hard to tell if the other’s thought is Nikos or Salem or…

**Really? What was it?**

_It was…_

Her pulse pounds through her head. Something clicks and skitters…

_It was…_

Dust, there’s _no name_ there.

She knows Nikos’ last name but she _doesn’t know hers_.

Cinder realizes her mind’s gone blank. Just - the smell again, that rough earthy stink. The foul taste in her mouth grows stronger. Brown crowds in on the edges of her eyes; light grows too sharp. Something _writhes_ on her back and in her veins. It isn’t Nikos.

The pounding’s so loud she can barely _think_. She needs – dark, needs quiet, needs…

**Cinder…?**

 “Cinder…?”

Someone’s hand on her wrist…

She opens her eyes. Emerald’s staring at her with helpless worry in her face and Cinder feels _filthy_ in a way she never has before. She wants – wants to flinch, wants to _choke her_ , wants to _hide_ – _stop looking at me like that, Emerald, stop it! I tried to kill you!_ Dust, what’s _happening to her_? What’s happening to _both_ of her?

 _That wasn’t like Nikos either_.

“Cinder,” Emerald repeats, brown fingers shaking slightly.

“I’m here.”

She remembers to breathe again. Sucks in a cold mouthful of air. Ozpin watches her without blinking. She can’t tell if it’s pity or scorn or both in his eyes.

"No," she rasps out. “It’s my name now.” _I bled for it. I killed for it. It’s mine. It will always be mine._

"Then you don’t remember.”

 _Don’t tell him_ , Salem’s voice seems to hiss between her ears.

“No.”

Her voice hangs in the air. Outside, the blizzard howls.

“I see.” There is genuine anger in Ozpin’s voice, anger and pity. “Dabbling with the Grimm exacts its price. I’m almost sorry for you. You’ve done more damage to yourself than I ever could.”

She glares at him. _I don’t want your **pity** , old man_. _I want your answers_.

“Do we have an accord?”

Cinder nods, once. It feels…final.

“Good.” Ozpin shifts a little closer to the fire and sips from his mug of broth. He grimaces. “Dreadful. No substitute at all. Miss Fall, you and Miss Nikos are lucky you’re with me.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I’ve been in your shoes.”


	15. anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? It lives again? Can it be?

_Ruby Rose_

 

 “Ruby?”

Ruby opens her eyes and wishes she hadn’t. A Nevermore seems to be pecking on both sides of her skull. From the inside. Her arms feel like wet noodles and it hurts to breathe.

“Mmmph,” she mutters.

“Oh _thank God_ , you’re awake.” A blonde-topped blob leans in, daubing at her forehead with a fist full of snow. She groans and wonders if that’s her forehead _sizzling_. “Hey. Take it easy.”

Ruby cringes back from the cold and shuts her eyes again to block out the dirty gray light. “Ren? Nora?” Her tongue feels too thick for her mouth. “Are you-“

“We’re here, Ruby,” Nora chirps from somewhere else in the room. “Geez. You’ve been sleeping all day.”

Ruby lets out a breath she doesn’t know she was holding in. _Oh, thank goodness_. Her brain’s still a bit of a blur, but for some reason Ren and Nora safe feels absolutely critical. “Where…where are we?”

“Safe for now.” Jaune’s voice is tight. “Stuck. How are you feeling?”

“Great, just great.” She risks half-opening an eye and fights the urge to hiss. It’s too bright just yet to be comfortable. Ruby feels cold metal press against her back. “You?”

“Still a bit like Cinder kicked my ribs in.” He laughs sheepishly. “Didn’t exactly cover myself in glory there, did I?”

 _Cinder_. The name seems to have lodged in her thoughts with long sharp barbs.

_Right. Berserk killing spree. That happened._

“That makes two of us.” Ruby opens her eyes again – wincing at the light - and does a quick inspection. Limbs all present and accounted for; a good start. It feels like she has several nasty new bruises, and a few cuts somebody’s bandaged up. Breathing deep hurts a bit.

All things considered, it could be worse. What the hell was she thinking?

_You weren’t thinking. You just wanted Cinder’s head on the floor._

Ugh, that’s not a thought she’s used to having rattling around in her head.

When she’s honest with herself, Ruby knows she's probably killed people before. Or put them in a position to die. She can’t pretend all those White Fang made it out of the tunnels beneath Vale. Then there was that weird girl – _"Neo!"_ – aboard Ironwood’s ship. It’s hard to imagine that she survived the fall. But she _might_. They _might_.

The point is, she didn’t _try_ to kill them. She didn’t _want_ to kill them, just keep them down. She didn’t even _want_ Torchwick dead – sometimes she closes her eyes and sees him there, face twisted with rage, ranting with arms spread as the gryphon’s beak closes with a _snap_ of bone.

She would have saved him if she could have. That feels sort of important.

Ruby frowns.

_I’m not even sorry, am I?_

Dirty. She feels dirty. And wishes she’d taken the murderer’s head off.

“You all right, Ruby?” Jaune’s voice snaps her out of it for a moment. She winces when she gets a closer look at his face, all black eyes and scratches and scuff marks. _Eesh, he’s looking battered_.

“I dunno.”

To her surprise, he just nods. "Right. How's your head?"

"Better than yours, Jaune. Put some snow on that already." She sits up and takes a good look at their little shelter.

Not much to look at. Their fire is burning low, but it's still at least a bit warm inside. There's a a pane of sheet metal tilted against a hole in the wall, and little drifting flakes hiss in through the gaps. Ren and Nora are curled up in the far corner in a bundle of blankets and backpacks.

She reaches out for Crescent Rose and finds her folded up by her feet. Jaune watches her, his hand pressed against the bruise on his cheek. She hadn't even thought about losing Crescent. Hadn't thought about a lot, really.

Once the familiar weight is on her hip, tension she hadn't even noticed bleeds out of Ruby all at once.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." He smiles. "Listen. Uh. Something we gotta talk about-"

"Just a sec." Ruby stands up - trying to ignore the truly amazing sliding feeling in her head - and wobbles across the room to Ren and Nora. She sinks back onto her knees. "Hey guys."

Ren looks up. Ruby flinches. He looks dreadful: shivering, a healing cut on his temple, one arm splinted. There's a far-away look she knows and doesn't like in his eyes. He smiles, but it seems weak.

"Ruby."

"Hey Ruby." Nora looks better than Ren, but Ruby winces at the bruise mottling most of her forehead. She hasn’t let go of his other hand. "Glad you're awake. What _was_ that?"

"Was what?"

"The big flashy thing? Is it some sort of Semblance?"

"Oh." She worries her lower lip and looks down. _It’ll sound crazy_. “Uh. No, not a Semblance. Just my eyes. Uncle Qrow said there was something special about them, but I don’t- I didn’t _mean_ to do that. It just kinda happened.”

“Really? Does it hurt?”

“Now?” Ruby laughs. “A bit.” She rubs at her temples. “I have a headache.”

“Well, if we spot Cinder again, keep doing it.” Nora beams. "She didn't like that one bit. Nice to know that we've got her running scared!"

 _Running scared_. Ruby scowls. _Yeah, right. She wasn’t running scared. She was playing with us_. _Outclassed us enough to show off and steal P-_

She sits back and chews on her lip. Hunger gnaws at her. “We got anything to eat?” she asks, and reaches out for the backpacks. An unwholesome smell attacks her nostrils – salty, oily – and she jerks back in shock from the limp form in the corner.

“ _Mercury_?”

Jaune clears his throat. “-Yeah, uh.” His voice cracks nervously. “That. I wanted to talk about that.”

Ruby’s eyes narrow until she’s staring at the limp, gray-haired boy through sniper’s scopes. Her fingers close around Crescent Rose’s housing before she can stop herself, but she’s not sure why. For something solid to hold, maybe. She wants to – to shake him, slap him, drag him awake and scream in his face.

_Why did you do it? Why did you help kill Penny?_

 “What,” she asks in a low voice, biting off the edges of the word, “is he doing here?”

“He was going to freeze or bleed out. I couldn’t just leave him.”

 _Yes you could!_ snaps the evil little voice in Ruby’s head. She scrunches her eyes shut and tells it to shut up. She needs to be _calm_. Needs to be like Dad.

“Bleed out?” Ruby peers at Mercury again. She _does_ smell blood, beneath the antiseptic. “I didn’t see you hurt him.”

“We didn’t,” Ren quips with a hiss of pain.

“Easy, Ren. Your ribs.” Nora glares at the limp form in the corner. “He’s too fast. I couldn’t get a good hit on him.” She grinds her teeth. “He’s good. For a backstabbing jerk that should be out there _freezing_ right now. _Jaune_.”

“Nora.”

“Alright, alright!” Jaune’s friend throws up her hands. “I’m just saying, when he _kills us in our sleep_ , I told you so!”

“He won’t be killing anyone in his sleep,” Ruby says firmly. She sucks in a deep breath and carefully puts Crescent Rose aside where nobody can reach her. Then, steeling herself, she crawls closer to Mercury and looks for the source of the smell.

She doesn’t have to look very hard.

The torn muscle around Mercury’s thighs outlined beneath his bandages is ugly but she’s seen wounds before. Dad used to come home so battered it needed hours with bandages and unguents. What stops her short is the angular prosthetics bolted there, evil, ugly metal things smeared with blood and dirt.

She’d thought he’d…gotten his legs fixed, or something.

Ruby jerks back and is very glad her stomach feels empty. The world pulls back out of focus and she’s there in the stadium again with the awful _crack_ echoing through the air-

“ _My leg! Why’d she do that? Why’d she attack me?”_

Her teeth grind together.

_Liar._

“Wake him up.”

“What?” Jaune blurts out. “But he’s hurt-“

“I need to talk to him.” Dust, she’s mad right now. Ugly, cold mad. Mad enough that she carefully takes Crescent off her belt and kicks her across the floor before she does something awful. Huntresses don’t hurt prisoners.

Jaune grabs her hand. “Ruby. Are you _sure?”_

She’s feeling like a bit of a monster.

“No. But we gotta know.” Ruby chews nervously at her lip. “Look, he’s hurt already, I won’t do anything worse.” She motions to Nora and Jaune. “Just keep an eye on him.”

Reluctantly, her friends grab their weapons. Ruby’s hand itches for Crescent Rose, but she knows it’s a bad idea to even let herself have the temptation. She bends down over Mercury again and watches the boy’s chest rise and fall. The smell’s less sharp now, or maybe it’s just cold enough she doesn’t notice.

“I don’t think he’ll be very clear,” Nora warns.

“I just need to make some rules.”

He looks younger now. She almost feels bad for him until she thinks of Yang’s face, or Penny’s body lying in pieces, or Pyrrha choking on the arrow-

Ruby’s fingers curl into fists. She spreads them hurriedly and shakes Mercury before she has time to second-guess it. He feels fever-hot to the touch.

“Wake up.” Ruby tries for sinister. Her stupid voice warbles and squeaks all over the place, though. Too young for Beacon still. She’s in it up to her chin and the bottom’s sliding away from beneath her feet. Good to feel Jaune and Nora looming over her shoulders.

“Wake up!” This time she sounds better. Sharper. It’d be easier to just slap him but Huntresses don’t do that. Cheats and liars have all the luck.

Mercury’s feverish brown eyes slide open. Sweat’s pouring down his forehead. He shifts in his blankets and groans miserably.

“Red,” he groans with a hiss of breath. His voice is mushy.

“Yeah, that’s right!” Dust, if her voice cracks right now… Ruby glares down at him. “You gotta deal with me now.”

“Arc didn’t have the balls, did he?” Mercury’s laugh creaks and wheezes. “Had me scared for a bit, man. Thought you had something nasty in store.”

Sure, he’s sweating and shaking and half-drunk on sickness, but Ruby doesn’t take her eyes off Mercury. Jaune has to be fuming. But he’s dangerous, even like this.

“Don’t worry about what Jaune can do,” she shoots back, doing her best Yang impression. “Worry about me.”

“Shaking in my boots- oh, wait.” Mercury motions to his feet. “Whoopsie.”

God, he’s a jerk. “You had those at the Festival.”

“Obviously.” Mercury blinks and stares at her. “You gonna kill me, Red?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

Mercury looks a little closer. His eyes don’t look right. They don’t look all there. “Huh,” he says. “I’ll be damned. You _are_.”

Ruby is, truth be told. Not _much_. She doesn’t even want to admit it to herself. But she _is_ picturing Mercury’s corpse, and wondering how it’d make her feel.

“You helped kill Penny.”

“Wasn’t hard.”

Ruby sees red. _You smirking prick!_ She lifts her foot to stomp hard on his mangled thighs. That’ll shut him up – no, no, _stop_ it. She sucks in air and holds rock-still.

Mercury’s grinning that sick, feverish grin. _He wants you to do it_. “Wasn’t personal, either.”

Ruby blinks back tears and bares her teeth. “You _killed_ her for no reason. That’s personal.”

“What, you want me to say sorry for a bucket of bolts? Think she’s the first one I’ve snuffed? Real soft of you, Red. Should’ve spilled your brains all over the floor when you were blubbering-”

 _He really doesn’t care_.

“Your mistake.” Ruby’s voice trembles a bit. “And you’re right. I _am_ thinking about killing you.”

He leans up as best he can. She can smell the sickness on his breath. “How?”

“I’m not gonna, so it doesn't matter.” She puts her hands on her hips. “And you’re gonna tell me what you know.”

“Why?”

“You need us.”

“Heard that one before.” Mercury folds his arms, but she notices the way his face goes tight with pain. “Cinder _and_ Golden Boy over there. Doesn’t seem to ever work out too well for me.”

 _Ignore him_. “You’re hurt. Sick. We’ve got bandages. Medicine. Shelter. You’re getting ‘em if you behave. I’m not tossing you out into the snow.”

“More fool you. Think I’m grateful? You ever seen what Cinder does to folks she doesn’t like? Why should I tell you a goddamn thing?” He clenches his jaw. “You gonna try and beat it out of me, Red?”

Ruby’s stomach twists. “Dust, no.” She leans closer and tries to ignore the jitters in her chest. Tries not to think of Penny lying there… _He just got in my way_. “But you _owe_ us, Mercury. And if you don’t help us, we’re all gonna die.”

The compartment goes silent for way too long.

“Give him another blanket.” Ruby pulls back from Mercury and resists the urge to wipe her face. Her legs are shaking. She has to stay calm – predators smell fear. If Mercury pushes much more she'll have to do something about it and she doesn't want to do that. “And some food. If he gets mean, gag him.”

Jaune nods. “Where are you going?” He looks worried. And angry. Whatever Mercury told him must have really rattled him.

“Fire’s looking a bit dim. I’ll get some more wood. Otherwise we’ll start freezing.” Ruby tries to smile. “I’ve got a cloak and you don’t.”

“You call that enough?”

“Also, I can cut down trees.” She raises her eyebrows. God, Jaune needs to see she needs some air or she’ll scream her head off.

Jaune laughs so weakly she can barely hear it. “Right. Stay close, ok? Don’t take too long.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She tilts the door to one side and flinches away from the wind. “Watch him.”

A wall of white swallows her whole.

Out in the snow, she gets half a dozen paces before the first tears freeze on her cheeks. She sinks in the snow up to her thighs with almost every step. It’s cold, and her headache is building again.

 _What am I doing_? Ruby swallows and sucks in cold, raking breaths of air. She’s never felt this alone before.

About twenty paces from the car, she nearly trips over a pile of neatly stacked logs.

“I think you did pretty good,” a familiar husky voice murmurs in her ear. “Thought I’d have to step in and shut the little shit up before you broke him. Nice going.”

Ruby’s jaw drops open.

“Heya kiddo.”


	16. old souls

_Ozpin_

 

At last, he can relax.

Ozpin hasn’t lived this many lives without learning not to take a moment’s peace for granted. The fire’s dying but still warm. He savors the quiet: soft puffs of disturbed snow, distant crunching, embers crackling and the girls’ rustling breathing.

 _The girls_. Ozpin chuckles. When did Miss Fall and Miss Sustrai become “the girls?”

 _Since I became responsible for them, I suppose_. Necessity, strange bedfellows, pick a proverb.

He’s taken the last watch. His bruises still aren’t being cooperative and his hip aches in the cold. Now and then he coughs hard enough it feels like his ribs rattle in his chest. Sleep’s eluded him most of the night, and he needs time to think on what he’ll do next. He’d gotten cocky. Let Her force his hand.

Best to weigh potential strategies in advance. He’ll get one chance, no more.

Certain assets: one broken pipe for a cane, a pack’s worth of salvaged food and bedding, Miss Nikos’ periodic cooperation. Potential assets: Miss Fall’s paranoia, offers of amnesty in exchange for cooperation (problems: Qrow and James, legal barriers), Miss Rose and company.

Bit of a step down from an academy, trained and trusted faculty, and a generous expense fund.

 _That was a step down from a kingdom. We managed_.

Complications, in order of severity: Almost certainly sacked as headmaster. Minor injuries, presumed death, cracked glasses. Winter and the risk of exposure. Miss Rose’s animosity for Miss Fall.

No bloody cocoa or coffee. Barbaric.

_Well. You've salvaged worse._

Ozpin shakes his head and thinks back to a few of the times he’s “salvaged worse.” Bloody sands, tear-streaked faces.  He rolls his head back on his shoulders and closes his aching eyes. Cold wind plays on his cheeks and soothes the fever throbbing in his temples.

_You're not well, old man. You can't hold yourself together forever._

He opens them again, and jaundiced red is bleeding across the moon.

Ozpin sighs. She has the worst timing.

Without any fuss, the world around him flakes away in ragged patches. Wind fades and the crackling fire goes silent. Exposed in fragments is a long, high-vaulted chamber stiller than a tomb. A reddish pall hangs over everything and mutes all color. The seat beneath him and the table before him feel filmy and insubstantial. His hands lack weight, skin pallid and somehow greenish. Candles burn but illuminate nothing.

And perched at the table’s head, Her – bone-white on black, solid in the gruesome crimson half-light.

“Dear Ozpin.” Black lips curl and red eyes sparkle with amusement.

“Salem.” Ozpin inclines his head, very slightly.

“Relax, old friend. You’ve had a hard few weeks, haven’t you? Isn’t it time to take a break?” She extends a pale, long-nailed hand. “On my name, truce. You’re safe this night.”

“On my name, truce.” He takes her hand and kisses the knuckle – quickly, the barest formality. Then lets it go as quickly as a live viper. Salem’s lips tighten, but only for a moment.

“You look dreadful.”

The truth is, he hurts less than he has in weeks. But the dead menace of her chambers blunts any sense of relief. Ozpin tips an imaginary glass in her direction and wishes she’d master interior décor; the chairs are hideous. “Don’t shed any tears on my account. To what do I owe your most insistent invitation?”

“An apology.”

“Apology?” He scoffs. _I didn_ _’_ _t think you knew how anymore_. “This _is_ a change of tune _._ ”

“Your lurching shamble through the woods was not my design.” Salem’s teeth gleam beneath her lips. “A prolonged torment is wasteful. By now, you’re supposed to be dead.”

This time Ozpin doesn’t bother to hide the mockery in his voice. “Thank you?”

“Young Cinder sometimes gets creative. She wants to impress me.” She presses her palms together and leans back in her throne. “A curious gambit you’re playing with her. Is that desperation I smell?”

“Desperate men try unorthodox solutions.” He mimics her pose, leaning forward instead. “You have made me _very_ desperate, dear Salem.”

“Mmm. I thought you had every confidence in your smaller soul.”

Ozpin keeps his face very, very still. Best not to think of them at all, not here and now. Salem’s stare is like flensing knives. “Well, she’s not here right now. You’ve taken my champion-“

“Have I?”

_Eldest Brother, she knows._

Salem laughs.

“Ozpin,” she says fondly, when the echoes of screaming glass have faded and the air feels clean again. “You dear old fool. Young Cinder is a key piece. Surely you didn’t think I’d let her go unobserved for long?”

“You’ve never been kind to your pawns.”

“To the contrary. I am very kind. I never lie to them.” Her lips peel back wider. “I suppose you didn’t waste all your time after all. Your champion now stains mine. It’s clever. A new battlefield.”

“Even were I inclined to take credit for it, this is your doing more than mine.” Ozpin struggles to keep his voice level. Which surprises him a little, given all the reasons he ought _not_ to feel anything about the issue.   _If you could see what you_ _’_ _ve done, you wouldn_ _’_ _t be you._

“She had no idea whatsoever of what’s inside her,” he snaps. “What you put there. There’s a _hole_ in her Aura, Salem! She doesn’t remember her **name**.”

“Young Cinder wanted power.” Salem shrugs. “Power _always_ has a price. The weak quail from it. The strong pay it.”

 _And she certainly has paid_.

Ozpin gives up. “Was ‘Cinder Fall’ your idea of a joke?”

“It _is_ rather funny, I suppose.” She shakes her head at him. "Why would I bother remembering it when she doesn’t? Come now. Don’t waste our time together on tears for the girl, Ozpin. They’re wasted effort. She’s lost weakness. Trifles. Nothing more.”

“Tears? I’d kill her if I could.”

“Liar. I know you better than that.” Salem’s smile widens. “If it were just young Cinder, perhaps. But you won’t compound your failure by letting Nikos slip through your fingers. Your ego would never allow it. Besides, you’re far too fond of your own skin to die so pointlessly.”

The irritating thing is she’s more right than he likes. Ozpin stares into the too-familiar red gaze and sighs. “Conceded,” he admits. “It’s a conundrum.”

“Are you sure you wish to play this game, Ozpin?”

He rolls his eyes. “I had the chance to run before. I won’t now. I’ll play this round out.”

“Ever the sentimentalist.” Salem brushes dust from her mantle. “Well, I suppose I shall as well. Don’t you worry, Ozpin. You’ll be relieved of all these cares very soon.”

As veiled death threats go, he's heard better.

 

He wakes to a gray dawn, a nearly dead fire and a rib-rattling cough.

Ozpin sits up and puts a hand over his mouth to stifle the rasping noise. It comes away flecked with blood - fever? The psychic strain of Salem's touch? Difficult to say, and not good in either case.

 Times like this, he feels his age keenly, no matter how smooth his face.

 _Tick tock, old man. Tick tock_. _You_ _’_ _re running out of time_.


End file.
